This Heart of Mine
by Dark Rose of Heaven
Summary: Kel and her friend have a new mission: to protect the ambassadors to Carthak, while working in secret to undermine a dangerous enemy. As new risks present themselves along the way, Kel finds there may be an adventure even more perilous... love?
1. Prologue

Editing/Revamping beings now! ^_^ I'm really excited about this version! It's more sophisticated (I hope), and eventually (I hope) will be beta-proofed before I release the edited-by-me version. For now, I'll do my best to iron out the kinks in plot etc. A word on dates: Obviously this never happened, because in the canon universe, Kalasin was married to Kaddar sometime roughly between Squire and Lady Knight (according to Trickster's Choice). However, I didn't want the characters leaving the Scanran/Tortallan border until the war was pretty much tied up, so I had to settle for stretching a few details. Hopefully that's okay with you guys ;). DR

* * *

**Prologue**

The following message appears in code.

_His Royal Majesty, King Jonathan I of Tortall, etc._

_To Sir Wyldon, Lord of Cavall and the Surrounding Countryside, Commander of Fort Mastiff_

_April the First, 463_

_My dear Sir,_

_I am much in your debt. Your work at Fort Mastiff can only be surmounted by the generous and unbiased advice you and Sir Gareth the Younger have provided me. I am pleased to say that after many months of letters and embassies sent back and forth across our borders, Emperor Kaddar Iliniat and his council of advisers have agreed to establish a connection between Carthak and Tortall with the bonds of marriage between the Emperor and our eldest daughter, Princess Kalasin. Queen Thayet and I hope that such a connection will be advantageous in the securing of our countries' relations._

_As I am sure you are aware, Carthaki-Tortallan dealings have been less than cordial of late. There have been some rumors, currently being followed by Spymasters Sir Myles of Olau and Baron George of Pirate's Swoop, of unrest in Carthak from the Imperial Academy magicians, who see it as Tortall's duty to use the Dominion Jewel to assist their southern reaches with the famine they are currently experiencing. As of yet, such intervention is impossible. However, I hope that with the joining of Kalasin and Emperor Kaddar, we may make an end to this unrest before war breaks out. The royal treasuries have suffered enough with the unexpected length of the Scanran Wars._

_Thus, with your blessing and advice you so generously bestowed, I write to inform you of a new mission which I hope you will undertake gladly. After their successful work in the Yamani Islands, I am sending Baron Piers of Mindelan and his wife, the Lady Ilane, to take up our more informal embassies' work in Carthak. With them will go Sir Gareth the Younger and his wife Cythera, Sorcerer Numair Salmalín and his wife Veralidaine the Wildmage, Sir Yaxley haMinch, and yourself. I know that you and Sir Yaxley will be the perfect men to lead the knights I have in mind to go along as a guard. These knights are young, but have proved themselves time in again in both training and the northern warfront. With the treaties signed and the war officially at an end, we feel it will not be detrimental to Tortall's safety to send these knights into Carthak. Further explanations and instructions are included, under code and under my seal. May the gods smile upon your dealings in Carthak. _

_The following is the list of knights that I and General Vanget haMinch have selected to guard the ambassadorial embassy to Carthak._

_Sir Merric of Hollyrose, Sir Seaver of Tasride, Sir Nealan of Queenscove, Sir Esmond of Nicoline, Sir Owen of Jesslaw, and Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan_

* * *

_Four Years Earlier  
_

_September 25, 460 Human Era_

_Fort Steadfast_

Steadfast was so full of guests attending the joint weddings of Sir Nealan of Queenscove to Yukimi noh Diaomoru, and Lord Raoul of Goldenlake to Buriram Tourakom, that Tobe had to sleep on a pallet in the corner of Kel's makeshift bedchamber. The "ladies' court" occupied the top level of Steadfast's headquarters, but the amount of women in attendance - mostly Riders - meant that many slept three to a room, the ceilings hung with heavy drapes that provided some semblance of privacy. Never before had Kel been so grateful for that privacy - until Tobe woke to the sounds of her sobs, and ran to fetch Lady Ilane of Mindelan. Lady Ilane had always had a kind word for Tobe, and since his mistress' sudden display of femininity unnerved him to the point of terror, he wasted no time in going to the baroness. Who better to deal with Keladry's uncharacteristic emotion than own mother? However, banished by the good woman from Kel's room, Tobe ended up leaving his mat to go sleep in the stables. Mithros knew, the horses and hay would be far more welcome than a cold pallet and two women dealing with whatever was ailing the Lady Knight.

In Kel's room, Lady Ilane lowered herself carefully to the floor beside her daughter's double pallet, wondering what could be the cause of her daughter's tears. From Ilane's long experience, Kel had almost never cried. Even as a child, the Yamani way of life had allowed Keladry to conceal her emotions, though Ilane was often doubtful as to the benefit of such self-suppression.

Kel's muscled body flinched in response to Ilane's gentle touch on her back. The words that followed were muffled by both her pillow and the tears running unchecked from her eyes. "Why are you here, mother?"

Lady Ilane smiled. "I see you still know your mother's touch, my dear." She fingered the rough ends of Kel's nape-length hair with a faint wince. It looked as though someone had hacked it with a blunt knife. "Tobe came for me," he murmured absently, belatedly recalling her daughter's question.

Kel jerked upright, pulling her hair away from Ilane's loose hold without so much as a flinch. "Is he still here? I didn't mean to wake him…"

"No, no… he is gone to the stables for the night," Ilane reassured her. Spotting a small porcelain tower in the corner of the room, she smiled faintly. "Isn't a fort on the border of enemy territory a bit too dangerous of a place to carry around a Yamani tea pot? How in Mithros' name did you get it all the way up here without breaking it?"

Kel gave a watery chuckle, and blew her nose. "Very, very carefully."

Despite the dimness of the room - the only source of light was the moonlight spilling through chinks in between the tapestry-walls - Ilane wasted no time in kindling a small, glowing fire in the lower basin of the contraption. Held by silver vines, the porcelain teapot that balanced above the coals gradually heated up. When it was hot enough, the expanding metal forced a tiny cup to turn over above the water, allowing a premeasured amount of dried leaves to fall into the pot. Almost instantly, the smell of Yamani green tea filled the small space. After a quick stir, Ilane poured two cups full and handed one to her daughter. Left to its own devices, the glowing coals slowly turned black, and the teapot cold. Meanwhile, the two women made themselves comfortable on the pallets and blankets.

"So," Ilane began, blowing over the silver-dipped rim of her cup. "It is not often that the Lady Knight weeps for lost love."

Keladry gave her a startled look. "How did you know?"

"I didn't," Ilane replied mildly. "Mothers have a talent for guessing that which ails their children."

Kel smiled reluctantly. "I don't know half of the why myself. All I can think is that I was so happy for Raoul and Neal, but somehow jealous at the same time… and for the first time in my life I've wished I could be as delicate and fragile as Yuki, or as striking and petite as Buri… I don't know why, I've never really cared for that sort of thing, and I _did_ wear a dress but it made no difference… you can't hide over eight years' worth of muscle under a flimsy cotton gown…"

"Cotton?" Ilane demanded tartly. "The daughter of Mindelan goes to a wedding wearing _cotton_?"

"It's the only real dress I own, mama," Kel reminded her. "It's not like I would wear it to a battle with the Scanrans, or have need of it during a raid or scouting party."

"True," Ilane conceded. "Then, what was the deal breaker?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The final reason that broke the floodgates and released six years of pent-up hormones and romantic feelings," Ilane explained dryly. To her surprise, Kel blushed.

"You know Sergeant Domitan of the King's Own."

Ilane's elegant brows rose high. "Well, that explains much indeed."

Kel squirmed in embarrassment. Apparently even Lady Mindelan had been subject to tales of Dom's fame with the ladies.

"I wouldn't think you would be the sort to fall for such a flirt, Keladry," Ilane commented, only the barest hint of reproach in her voice. Kel, as predicted by her mother, immediately flared up, outraged.

"It's not like that, mama! I rode with him for four years as a squire, and spent much time with him at Haven and during our time in Scanra. I _know_ him, mother. It wasn't some silly crush, like the others girls who barely lay eyes on him."

Lady Ilane put down her cup, face Yamani-grave. "I have no doubt of that, my dear. Please tell me what happened."

"It was at the after-feast," Kel began. "You know I don't like liquor all that much, so I stuck to apple juice."

When she paused for breath, Ilane nodded understandingly for Kel to continue.

"The others were mostly tipsy or entirely drunk, though a few - Raoul, and my lord Wyldon - hadn't touched a drop. Dom was one of the tipsy ones, though he seemed to be holding his liquor pretty well. We were playing chess when a Rider came up and began flirting with him." As she spoke, Kel's voice dropped so that her mother had to strain to hear. "Eventually he wasn't playing at all, and Owen decided to try his luck instead. Then they left together - Dom and the Rider.

Lady Ilane raised her eyebrows yet again. "You sure you're not jumping to conclusions?"

Kel nodded miserably. "Dom is sleeping with her right now, I know it. I know the look on men's faces when they know they've made a conquest. And I don't even know why I _care_ so much! Since I began training as a page, I've been strictly sexless. Now... I'm not."

Ilane touched her daughter's cheek gently, wiping away a rebellious tear. "Time will tell, my dear, but I don't think this man is the one for you. You must be patient. Someone will come along before you know it… someone you may already know. And how would it be if you were involved with Dom and realized this other man was truly your soul mate?" She smiled, butting Kel's forehead with her own in a surprisingly un-Yamani-like gesture. "Do not be too quick to embrace love when it comes calling, my dear, but don't rush to turn it away."

Kel made a face. "Well that's conveniently vague and un-interpretable."

Ilane laughed. "I know, and I'm sorry. I wish there was something more hopeful I could tell you. All I can tell you of love is that sometimes it's hard to recognize, and sometimes it's as plain as the nose on your face." She gave her daughter a stern look. "So don't let silly lovesick puppies like Domitan trip you up. Love will come to you before long."

Kel leaned in for a hug. "Thanks, mum. I needed that more than I knew."


	2. Orders from the Crown

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Orders From The Crown**

_April 3, 463_

_New Hope, Fort Mastiff_

With the loss of Blayce the Nothing Man and his killing machines, the Scanran Wars took a turn for the better. The hilly terrain of the northlands made open warfare difficult, however, and it took over two years for the Tortallan army to gain complete victory over their northern enemies. Even in the mid-spring two years after Kel and her friends had gone into Scanra, determined to bring back the Haven refugees, the Tortallan armada was still in the process of demolishing the Scanran fleet. Although "King Maggot" was a refugee in his own country, hunted by the chieftains over which he had once held sway. King Jonathan and Queen Thayet were beginning to sign treaties with those chieftains who sought peace, and slowly the forts on the northern warfront were giving up their troops. New Hope was no exception. Families packed up and left by the tens and twenties in a slow, steady stream as they sought to begin new lives in a new country.

It was almost six months after the last skirmish when Tobe came to rouse Kel, who was dozing over reports to Fort Mastiff. Running outside, she rounded the corner of the office buildings in time to see a sweat-soaked horse and rider canter into the fort. He dismounted in a rush, almost stumbling, and straightened quickly as Kel approached.

"Lady Knight Commander of New Hope?" he asked, throwing a weary salute. The question was merely a pleasantry. Caught up in the business of commanding the refugee camp cum fort, she hadn't found a spare few minutes to cut her hair. Now it fell almost past her shoulders, making her sex - often hidden by loose and baggy clothing - obvious.

"I am," she replied, business-like. "You have a message for me?"

"From Corus, milady," he informed Kel, startling her. Up until now she had thought him a bearer of ill news from Mastiff or Steadfast, or even Malorie's Pride. Only now did she see the king's official seal imprinted on the leather of his letter-bearing satchel. "Orders come from the king." He handed over the leather-bound missive, and Kel took it, staring at it as though she could see through the seal to what the packet contained.

"Tobe," she said, barely taking her eyes from the folder in her hands, "please take this man to the mess hall and get him some food, and then find him a bath and a spare cot somewhere."

"I'm sorry, milady," the courier told her, "but I can only accept a quick meal and beg a fresh horse, and then I must be off to Mastiff. I carry an important missive for the Commander there."

"Lord Wyldon?" Kel asked, momentarily confused. Then, "Yes, of course. Tobe? Ask Neal and Merric to meet me in the office…"

"I'm on it, lady," the young lad told her before she could finish. Throwing a salute that was ruined by his mischievous smile, he trotted off, the courier in tow. A quick word had one of the many children around the place seeing to the messenger's horse, and Kel walked quickly back the way she had come, opening the missive as she did so.

* * *

"The _Stump_?" Neal cried in horror. "We have to go to Carthak in order to protect pathetic nobles - excusing your parents, of course, Kel - stay there for a couple years attending parties and making small talk with the enemy, and all in company of the _Stump_? _Tomorrow_?"

"It's not expected to take several years, as it did with the Yamanis," Kel explained patiently. "His Majesty hopes for us to be there no more than six months – maybe less. We've already been forming shaky alliances with the Empire, and they are not the sort of people to just stand around in courts of state all day."

"As if they even _have_ courts of state," Merric put in. "Doesn't the Emperor control everything?"

Kel sighed. "The last emperor did. Kaddar is new to the throne, and seems to have some pretty novel ideas about how to run a country. Anyway, the ideal scenario is: we go to the capital, settle in, and curry favor with the local nobility in order to keep the ambassadors safe." She shrugged. "Either way, I hope we don't have too many parties. I don't have any dresses worthy of such an occasion."

"Who is coming besides us?" Merric asked curiously.

"Um… Owen, Seaver, and Esmond." She chuckled. "Someone at court has a sense of humor. All of us rebels with our old training master… Hopefully His Majesty knows what he's getting himself into, sending a passel of half-green knights into enemy territory. Though I'm sure he has his reasons."

Neal waved his hand as if to brush her ramblings away. "That's beside the point. We've certainly been in enemy territory before, if not under these conditions."

Merric arched an eyebrow. "What _is_ the point, Neal?"

"The fact that we will all be stuck by the Stump's side from now until the end of time!"

"Neal, please!" Kel exclaimed, irritated. "Tell me honestly that you don't at least _respect_ Lord Wyldon."

"If he respected him, he'd _call_ him Lord Wyldon," Merric pointed out.

"I'm so misunderstood!" Neal lamented, throwing up his hands in supplication. "Do you two know me at all?" Both his friends looked back at him silently. "All right, all right - of _course_ I respect the Ssss… Lord Wyldon. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here. I'd be dead on some battlefield, or worse, rotting away in the university amid scrolls and dust. I just need to poke fun at _someone_, and without Dom handy… Kel?"

Fumbling to organize the missive she had dropped, Kel berated herself for allowing her emotions to show. _A lake_, she thought fiercely. _I am a smooth, unruffled lake. Deep, placid, dark, cool… I am as stone._ Gradually the Yamani exercise cooled her heated emotions, and she was able to face her friends again with papers in hand. Although Neal was still clueless, Merric regarded her with something akin to empathy. _Am I really that transparent? He's been married to the girl for a year, curse it!  
_

"You know he wouldn't have been right for you, Kel," he told her quietly. "He's too..."

"Flamboyant?" Kel suggested wryly. "I know. It doesn't bother me anymore... much."

Merric nodded. "I understand that. If - if you ever need someone…"

"Between now and early tomorrow morning?" Kel asked wryly.

"Yes. Or ever. Circumstances don't matter. All right?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Merric nodded once, briefly, and left the room. Neal pondered for a few moments before enlightenment lit up his face.

"Oh…! You mean you… Dom…" He seemed unable to get his head around the idea. Kel rolled her eyes, feeling a sudden fondness for her best friend.

"Yes, meathead," she told him, ruffling his hair. "But not anymore."

"Good," Neal said, looking relieved. "He wouldn't be able to live in close proximity to you for that long. You need a patient sort of man."

"All right, I'm done feeling charitable," Kel pronounced, only half joking. "Get out!"

"See? See? There you go! I rest my case," Neal declared as he walked backwards out of the office. He grinned in pleasure as she laughed. At least she could still take a joke.

* * *

A blue sky was flung over Mastiff, punctuated by the bright new Tortallan flag and the more weather-stained insignia of Lord Wyldon of Cavall's house. Both snapped briskly in the fresh northern breeze. The horizon closed in around the fort, trees flowery with spring color hemming in the sky. Days came early and left late here in the north as the seasons changed, but Kel wasn't anxious to remain. For the first time since she had completed the Ordeal's mission, she felt restless. She was finished being stationed in one spot - this order had come at the perfect time. Besides, she had few refugees left to defend. More left every day as the border grew more peaceful, eager to strike out on their own.

She rode through the gate, grinning in response to the halloos and shouts she received in greeting. Ignoring Neal's grumbles about a certain someone being so famous she barely had time to remember her own friends, she dismounted in the yard. She handed her reigns to Tobe, starting immediately towards Lord Wyldon's office. Partway there, she was stopped there by a young man who was running at her from across the barricade.

"Owen!" she exclaimed as he enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug, giving back as good as she got. "How are you?"

"I'm excellent, Lady Knight," he replied, baby-blue eyes twinkling. That was about the only thing she recognized about her old friend. The past few years had transformed the still-childlike Owen of Jesslaw into a broad, stocky young man - complete with chin stubble and a dashing battle scar across the high plane of his forehead - only three inches shorter than she. His only ignoble feature was the bonny blond curl spilling from his queue and into his eyes.

"You look grand," she admitted, refusing to allow herself to smooth the hair out of his eyes. More snide remarks about being the 'mother' of her fellow knights was the last thing she needed.

"Well _you_ all look jolly!" Owen replied, his laughter ringing out clear and deep as he pounded Merric and Neal on the back in turn. "Here to pick up my lord Wyldon and the rest before we set out, eh?"

"Nothing less," Neal answered cheerfully. "How is the old stump? Are Seaver and Esmond here yet?"

"Not yet," Owen informed them, "but my lord (still in excellent health, by the way) expects them sometime later today. That courier was in and out, no time to stop and take a breath."

"He was that way with us too," Merric agreed as they strolled together towards the commander's office. "They're both stationed at Malorie, aren't they?"

"Yep. It'll take them longer, in that case, if they left the same time you did," Owen said as he lifted a hand to knock on the heavy wood door to the commander's office.

"Enter."

In response to the familiarly cool voice of their old training master, Owen opened the door and led the others in.

Lord Wyldon sat reclining in his chair behind the heavy oak desk, a slight crease between his brows as he reread the letter in his hands. The oily leather pouch containing the missive sat on the desk beside a decanter of amber liquid; Kel wasn't sure if it was cider or something stronger. But the thing that really caught her attention was the fact that his booted feet were propped informally on the desk. Exchanging raised brows with her fellows, she stood somewhat more at ease in between Merric and Owen.

Suddenly, Wyldon's head snapped up, startling them all save Owen into a stiff at-attention. There came a huff of amusement, and he waved their rigid obeisance aside.

"At ease, Mindelan, Queenscove, Hollyrose," he told them, gesturing for the four to have a seat in one of the several chairs about the room. "You can no longer be jumpy pages around me; we are all knights now." He held up the sheaf of papers in his hand. "I know you've received your own instructions, but there are blanks, as I'm sure you've noticed. My missive will explain everything."

"My lord," Neal broke in, tenacious as ever, "Why has the King chosen _us_? Surely there are more experienced knights who would be better suited for the task."

Wyldon regarded him with approval in his dark amber eyes. "You have a point, Nealan. I myself was skeptical, until I read His Majesty's entire message." Sitting back, he rubbed one hand absently through the silver-brown hair he had allowed to grow. "Tortall and Carthak are on a knife-edge. Emperor Kaddar has not yet managed to spread his ideals throughout the country, and there are many pockets of unrest. Therefore we are not sent only as protection. A few of you will be working closely with Sir Yaxley haMinch, who is part of the Crown's intelligence network. Others will be working their way into the nobility's confidence, thereby making smaller alliances. Protection of the embassy, while a vital part of our task, is only our purported reason for going. Therefore it is doubly vital that our true purpose is not discovered. If any Carthaki suspects a plot, we – and the ambassadors – will be in great danger. The Crown cannot afford another war. This alliance must work."

"And are we to play at being lily-handed nobles?" Merric asked, a trace of disgust in his tone.

"No," Wyldon answered, a faint smile deepening the marble-carved lines around his mouth and eyes. He glanced at the window, which offered a view of the main gate. "However, I would prefer to wait until your compatriots arrive; then I can explain everything in full. For now, get settled in. We leave in one day's time, the morning after next, to allow Baron Piers and his wife to prepare for visitors."

* * *

After leaving Lord Wyldon's office, Kel made a quick trip to the stables to make sure Peachblossom and Hoshi were settled in. Reassured as to their comfort, she left at a stroll, making for the part of Lord Wyldon's quarters that he had provided her for the two nights they were to remain at the fort. Mastiff was not currently prepared to house women, and Kel preferred her privacy.

In the room, a steaming bath awaited her, courtesy of Tobe. The high window prevented any peeping toms, and the few personal sparrows she had allowed to come with her - Nari, Quicksilver, Arrow, Duck, and Happy - were resting after the journey on various perches in the room. Closing her eyes in relaxation, she shucked her travel-stained clothes and slid with a sigh into the hot water.

She spent as much time as she could immersed in the small wooden tub before getting out and dressing in clean tan hose and a light green tunic trimmed in the same shade of brown. She brushed her wet hair quickly and searched in vain for a thong to tie it back with. Shrugging in resignation, she opened the door and, walking out of Lord Wyldon's suite, nearly tripped over Jump's compact form.

"How in Mithros' name did you get here?" she asked irritably, bending to give the war-torn canine a scratch despite herself. As if they had heard her question, two young men emerged from the stables opposite her. Shielding her eyes against the setting sun, Kel grinned in recognition. One, sprinkled liberally with freckles and slightly shorter than the other, waved; the taller of the two, dark-skinned and black-haired, merely grinned, white teeth flashing as they approached.

"How goes, Mindelan?" the first man called. "Made it here before us, did you?"

"Of course, Esmond," Kel replied heartily, accepting the two's claps on the back. "You stopped by New Hope on the way, I see," she noted, jerking her thumb at Jump, who sat at her side, his tail wagging in the dust.

"Sure thing," the darker man said with a quiet smile. "Had to make sure you weren't too scared to come along and join the fun."

Kel scowled and stuck her tongue out at him as they started off towards the mess hall. "Never, Seaver. I've not been closer to Carthak than Pearlmouth Harbor. This is going to be interesting."

"Interesting should be the least of it," Seaver remarked as the threesome approached the table where their friends had saved them seats.

"Nicoline! Tasride! You two just get in?" Neal asked, waving them to the benches. As she sat down, Kel experienced a strange sensation of déjà vu: not so long ago, it seemed, her friends had been saving each other seats in the trainee mess hall during her years as a page and then a squire.

"Not ten minutes ago," Esmond replied, dumping meat and gravy on his trencher from their table's communal platter. "We barely had time to splash our faces and change clothes before the delectable scent of dinner beckoned us to meet fair Keladry and escort her to dinner."

Kel rolled her eyes. "You're almost as bad as Cleon." To her relief, the feel of his name in her mouth caused no old pangs of regret to rise in her. Sometimes she still feared the old feelings would return, unwanted; since she had left off mooning for Dom, however, no such frivolous, unnecessary sentiments had presented themselves.

"What news from Malorie?" Kel asked, spooning a heap of steaming potato into her mouth.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Esmond shrugged, mouth full.

"A few skirmishes -" Seaver began.

"A raid here and there -" Esmond interrupted.

"But no real fighting," Seaver finished glumly.

"The most exciting thing that happens nowadays are our scouting forays over the border, and they rarely turn up any fighting!" Esmond complained.

"This comes as a very welcome relief, I assure you," Seaver said before taking a swig of juice. "Any idea of Wyldon's plans for us? I understand he's to lead the entire operation - undercover, of course," he added.

"Not a whit," Owen replied, looking sorrowfully at the uneaten bread on Kel's plate. Rolling her eyes, she handed it to him across Merric's lap.

"Said he wanted to wait until you two… Well, speak of the Black God," Neal broke off, lowering his voice to a murmur so as to not be heard by the approaching general.

The six young knights all looked up as Lord Wyldon stopped by their table. "I am glad to find you all here," he told them in a low voice, blocking the men behind him from listening in with his body. "Tomorrow after breakfast, please report to my office so I can give you the particulars. As you know, this must remain absolutely quiet. So much as a rumor can fly from the eastern coast to the Tyran borderlands within weeks."

"Yes sir," they all murmured as he met and held eyes with each of them in turn. He nodded.

"Very well. Tomorrow, then."

Neal frowned rather petulantly into his cup when Wyldon had gone. "You'd think keeping it quiet would be obvious," he grumbled.

Merric and Kel exchanged pained glances as Owen berated their stubborn friend. "Neal, if you can't like him, at least keep quiet about it," the youngest of their group told him sternly. "Remember, we have to spend a couple years in close quarters with him."

"Years," Neal sighed. The expressions on the faces of his companions caused him to backpedal quickly. "All right, then! I'm done. Not another word, I swear!"

"Good," Kel said firmly. "Because if not, we're going to force you outside right now and remind you of all the pummeling we took in the practice courts as pages."

Neal winced. "I think I'll pass on that one, thanks."


	3. To Mindelan

**CHAPTER TWO**

**To Mindelan**

_April 4-6, 463 HE  
_

_Fort Mastiff, The Road to Mindelan_

Breakfast was over before it had begun, or so it seemed to Kel. She barely remembered eating, let alone what it was. Her entire focus at the moment was on the task at hand.

Kel, Merric, Owen, Neal, Seaver, and Esmond all sat or crouched in separate areas of Lord Wyldon's office, reading the papers they held in their hands. Minutes before, the general had handed out the orders they were to memorize like a Player's script. Once the words were in their heads, the papers would be burned, leaving it up to them to know their mission inside and out.

"Your orders are tailored to match your personality," Wyldon had told them as he distributed the assignments. "And only one or two of you will be focusing on the same thing. Whoever your partner is, it is up to both of you to find your strengths and weaknesses and use them to your advantage when dealing with the Carthakis."

_Name: Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan_, Kel read silently to herself. _Main Task: Guarding Lady Ilane of Mindelan, Lady Cythera of Naxen, and Wildmage Veralidaine Sarrasri, Wildmage. Secondary Task: Make acquaintances among the ladies of the middle nobility (names enclosed below), thereby forming alliances with the stronger, if less wealthy, noble clans._

Kel paused to wrinkle her nose. She admitted that she was probably the best of the six young knights to handle this assignment, but associating with ladies of her class was not her strong point. Perhaps her mother and sisters could advise her. But who was to be her companion? Kel red on, hoping she wouldn't have to tackle this difficult task by herself.

_Companion: Sir Owen of Jesslaw._ Kel had to smile. The bonny blue-eyed young man was known for being a favorite of court ladies, if not always as a love interest; Owen had a knack for acting the confidant and friendly companion, much to his chagrin. Although he was not a full knight - yet - it made sense that he accompany his knight-master, and be of use while he was about it. She read on. _Report to: Lord Wyldon of Cavall._ That made sense, Kel decided. If Sir Yaxley was handling the secret intelligence part of the mission, it would fall to Lord Wyldon, prickly as he was, to handle the smaller alliances the knights hoped to win in Carthak.

There were two more pages that more fully described the extent of necessary training (including more etiquette; Kel almost groaned aloud), what mannerisms she should adopt, which favorite style of dress she should possess in order to win over the Carthaki noblewomen. It gave her a headache just to scan it, and so she put it down, looking instead towards Lord Wyldon. He met her gaze with his own.

"A question, Lady Knight?"

"Does this mean I shall have to play the part of a lady?" Kel asked, holding up the paper in her hands. She tried hard to hide the dislike of her role, but not even her Yamani training could prevent the truth from showing in her eyes. Wyldon's mouth turned up at one end.

"Yes, Keladry. I am afraid so."

"Well," Merric said, looking up from his own information to grin wickedly at the dismayed Kel. "This should be interesting indeed."

"You will still be yourself, Keladry," Lord Wyldon added. "A Lady Knight, and all that comes with it. But the Carthakis, as a rule, are not as progressive as Tortall; you may be required to play down the commanding aspect of your time as a knight, and focus on… lesser exploits."

Neal looked glum. "You'll have an easier time of it than me, Kel, so don't complain. It says here I'm to court the stiff-necked noblemen of Kaddar's advising council by myself, not to mention guarding Princess Kalasin when tensions ease enough for her to come to Carthak!"

* * *

The horizon was edged with a pale buttery silver as Kel led Peachblossom out of the stables by his reins, his saddlebags laden with supplies and her shield hanging off one side. In the end, she had to leave her practice glaive in storage with the rest of the items her fellows had to abandon. Her actual work glaive she unscrewed at the place where the metal and teak wood joined, wrapping the blade in canvas and placing it in one saddle bag; the staff she tied across Peachblossom's rump along with the oilskin bags containing her clothes and some other necessities. Hoshi she brought out and secured by a length of rope to Peachblossom's saddle, berating the gelding sternly as she did so. He would be staying at Mindelan while she was away, and she didn't want Hoshi, who was accompanying her into Carthak, to be injured by the temperamental destrier.

She turned at the sound of hoof beats.

"Good to see you're ready to go so early," Lord Wyldon said as he rode up on his warhorse, completely prepared for the journey. Kel could have sworn she saw a faint smile playing at his eyes and the corners of his mouth, but it was too dark to see properly, and so she dismissed it from her mind.

"I was eager to be off, sir," she said by way of explanation, hiding her inner embarrassment with Yamani calm. Lord Wyldon nodded, accepting her explanation without comment. Nevertheless, Kel suspected he knew her true motivation for being so early: her desire to beat the rest of her companions to readiness.

It was not long before the five other knights had saddled their horses and were ready to go. Just in time, the three sparrows Kel had asked to join her fluttered out of the sky to land on Peachblossom's mane. Tobe, who had to remain behind - the Crown had not figured him into their plans - waved from the battlements as the seven of them set out, riding in the direction of the rising sun. Kel turned around and waved back, hard pressed to keep a tear or two at bay. She had seen that Tobe would be looked after. Indeed, she had no qualms about his being able to take care of himself; but, with a mother's anxiety, she still felt remorse at having to leave him on his own a second time.

"Apron-strings!" Neal coughed into his hand as he rode his horse up beside Peachblossom. Kel swatted his shoulder with the ends of her reins.

"Nobody asked you," she told him tartly as Owen chuckled on her other side.

"This is going to be jolly!" he declared, briskly patting the sturdy young gelding beneath him. Startled, the beast gave a little leap to the side, almost unseating Owen and causing Peachblossom - irritated at the earliness of the hour - to bare his teeth at the younger horse.

"I'd say jolly will be the least of it," Merric noted dryly as Owen's steed shot off ahead at the danger Peachblossom posed. Kel, who felt she should probably give her warhorse a thing or two to think about as far as common courtesy, was laughing too hard to berate him.

* * *

The sun was setting behind their company as they crested a hill two days later and looked down into the lush valley that was Fief Mindelan. Kel smiled involuntarily, seeing the silvery Domin River snaking its way among the trees and the noble spires of the castle bathed in the pale pink light of sunset. It seemed as though she had been away forever.

Mindelan Keep had at one time been a permanent fortress, standing as the first defense against the Svardens who once inhabited the Yamani islands in the mid-300 B.H.E. Later, the Yamanis overtook the islands and the Svardens were banished to the mainland. Over time they became known as 'Scanrans', and Mindelan castle was left empty, while the town around it - once full of refugees and wounded soldiers from the battlefront - flourished. When Baron Piers' father was elevated to noble status, the king gave Fief Mindelan to that family, and there they lived still.

"Lead the way, Lady Knight," Lord Wyldon murmured from beside her, guiding his mount back a few paces to leave the narrow trail open before Kel.

"Yes sir," she replied with a faint smile, allowing Peachblossom to start down the hill.

Their reception in the courtyard of Mindelan castle was warm indeed. Baron Piers, smiling genially, gave Lord Wyldon a firm handshake and an amiable, "How do, Wyldon?" before greeting the other young men. Lady Ilane, dropping all pretense of dignity, embraced Kel warmly.

"How are you my dear? Anything exciting happened since we left?"

"Nothing at all," Kel assured the Baroness. "How are things here?"

"Increasingly quiet," Ilane replied. "Since your two elder sisters have been married, we've no youngsters to pester us!"

"Fear not, Lady!" Neal cried gallantly, sweeping her a bow and planting a ludicrously extravagant kiss upon her knuckles. "My party and I shall be sure to provide you with all sources of amusement and entertainment while we dwell among your most excellent selves…" He straightened with an O of surprise on his mouth as Merric slapped him in the bum with his free gauntlet.

"Cease your nattering at once, sir!" he ordered, before bestowing a cheery grin upon the Lady of Mindelan. "I do beg your pardon on his behalf, good mistress. He is an imperishable flirt."

"It runs in the family, or so I am told," Ilane murmured, smiling as she glanced covertly in her daughter's direction. Kel gave a minimal shrug as Baron Piers invited them all into the manor to clean up and change before supper. Her mother would hardly get a rise out of her _that_ easily.

* * *

Kel found that not much had changed in her old room. The floor was still highly-polished maple, strewn with richly-woven Yamani rugs. The windows faced west over the ocean, allowing the peach-hued light of the sunset to spill into the room and across the double bed. One of the households' many Yamani cats - specially bred with flattened faces and long, elegant fur - was curled up on the bedspread in a white ball of fluff. Nari, Duck, and Quicksilver were careful to avoid it, choosing instead to find perches on the curtain rods and the elegant teak wardrobe.

"Dresses," Kel sighed in regret as she went to open the beautifully carved piece of furniture. "I used to wear you all the time to make a point, but then you were simply a hassle. Now, it seems, I shall have to make do with you again." Choosing carefully, she selected pale lavender undergarments to go beneath a dusky violet gown, and plaited her hair so she would wind it in a tiny coil on top of her head. Looking in the mirror, she sighed and rolled her shoulders to settle the gown. It was a little tight across the chest and muscled abdomen, but it would have to do. She had no Lalasa to help her adjust her things now.

Downstairs, Kel was startled to see her elder brother Anders sitting in the parlor as well as her friends. He was speaking animatedly with Neal and Seaver, but stood and gave her a bone-crunching hug before standing back to look her over. His face look tired, she noticed, even if his sprightliness did not show it.

"Hello, little sister," he greeted her. "I hear you've been having a dull time of it over at the border forts."

"We have indeed," Kel replied, shooting a look over his shoulder to ask Lord Wyldon with her eyes if Anders knew of their mission. Her old training master shook his head minutely. "What brings you home? I thought you were in Corus helping Lord haMinch with the trainees."

"I've been released from duty for a few months," Anders replied; one hand fell to brush his nearly-useless leg, injured in combat with the Scanrans, and Kel wondered what the exact reasons behind his release were. Perhaps her father would know, though it seemed unlikely he would divulge the information if Anders remained secretive. "And you?" her brother asked. "It seems strange that they discharge so many of you young'uns at once."

Kel shrugged. "But convenient. It gives me a chance to practice my curtseys."

Just then, the head footman entered and bowed. "Dinner is served, my lords and ladies."

Relieved at the chance to escape having to dodge awkward questions, Kel fell behind her brother and parents as they filed into the adjoining dining room.

By the time dinner was over and they had stopped discussing the progress of the war in favor of bed, Kel was exhausted. Her body was not used to two full days on the road, let alone spending them on Peachblossom's back. It had been longer than it seemed since she had ridden with the King's Own.

In her room she declined the service of a household maid and undressed herself, taking a much-needed and fervently wanted bath before slipping into a plain white nightgown and tumbling into bed. The cat, still dozing on the coverlet, mewed in protest, but curled up beside her when she had pulled the covers up over herself to sleep.

But she could not sleep. A thousand questions raced through her mind, swamping her ability to "conk out" as Raoul had so fondly called it. What would it be like, spending the next couple years in Carthak? Why were Their Majesties so keen on a close alliance? Did they fear outward attacks beyond Scanra? Why were the knights they chose all young save one, and all good friends at that?

Kel turned her head to look out the window. The moon was rising, ripe and full as a melon as it balanced precariously on the horizon. It reminded her strangely of her mother's face, silver white in the dimness of her room, many, many years ago…

"_Mama, why are we here? I don't like it."_

_Lady Ilane stroked her daughter's forehead. "We are here because the Crown needs us to be here, dearest."_

_"What does the Emperor want with Papa? Why is he gone?"_

_"Your papa needs to discuss some important things with the Emperor," Ilane replied, struggling to explain adult proceedings to this curious three-year-old. "The Crown wants his son to marry the Emperor's daughter, you see."_

_"Does the prince want to marry the Emperor's daughter?"_

_"He doesn't really have a choice, dear. As the next king, Prince Roald will have to marry someone of royal blood. Right now, the Crown needs as many allies as they can get, so they've decided to ally themselves with the Yamani Islands."_

_The solemn-eyed girl pondered this for a moment. "What's 'ally'?"_

_"It's when a country, or a certain group of people, want to make friends with another group of people," Ilane told her. "Sometimes the only way to do that without a lot of fighting is for the leader of one group to marry the leader of another group. Marriage is sacred in the eyes of Mithros and the people of the land. It is a binding contract of law, and a private agreement of love - or at the very least, respect."_

_"But I love you, Mama," Kel informed her mother matter-of-factly. "So why aren't we married?"_

_"Oh dearest," Ilane sighed, struggling not to laugh. "There are many kinds of love. I love you and your brothers and sisters. You love your friends back in Tortall, don't you?"_

_"Yes, Mama."_

_"Those are two kinds of love. I also love your father very deeply. Only grown-ups love like that. When they love each other enough, they get married, as your father and I are. One day, you will meet a man who you will come to love. When he loves you in return, you will marry him and be his wife, as I am your father's wife." Lady Ilane touched her daughter's cheeks lightly with her fingertips. "Do you understand, _qechanta_?"_

_"Yes Mama," Kel answered sleepily, snuggling deeper into the covers. "G'night."_

_"Good night, dear. I love you."_

_"I love you too, Mama."_

_Ilane bent over and pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead. "Sweet dreams."_

Kel jerked upright from the dream, startling the cat out of his slumber. Apparently fed up with her, he leaped delicately off the bed and stalked out of the room. Almost immediately, Duck fluttered to her side and peeped in consolation.

"Nothing's wrong," Kel told him. "Just me feeling sorry for myself. I need to take a walk." Without waking the other two sparrows, Kel dressed in plain cotton breeches, a loose-sleeved shirt, and a simple woolen tunic as protection against the night's chill. Slipping out of her room silently with Duck perched on her shoulder, she made her way downstairs, past the salons and dining area, and out into the cool, moonlit night.

It would have been quicker to ride to the Domin, but fearing that Peachblossom or Hoshi would be too noticeable from the Keep, she instead slipped under the culvert at the base of the outer wall and into the woods between the manor house and the ocean. Silently, in case a villager from the town on the other side of the manor was out hunting, Kel crept the mile or so down to the gravelly shore.

The moon shone even brighter here, reflecting off the rippling river like a candle flame in a mirror whose glass was somewhat warped. Breathing in the clean country air, Kel sat, allowing it to calm her bewildered head. "I'm acting foolishly," she told Duck. "Just like a girl."

Duck chirped as if to say, but you _are_ a girl.

Kel scowled. "I know. What irks me is that I will have to _act_ like it even more now." Scooting forward so that her bare toes could dabble in the little wavelets that lapped the shore, she threw back her head to look at the sky. It was as though Mithros himself had cast a million glittering diamonds across a vast blanket of blue-black velvet.

"But why should I complain?" she asked Duck, refusing to admit she was talking more to herself than to the sparrow despite the fact that he could understand nearly every word she spoke. "This is a chance for me to explore my womanhood." Duck burbled. "I know, it sounds ridiculous," Kel admitted, holding out a hand so the bird could hop down her arm to settle on one of her fingers. She lifted him to eyelevel. "Any time I start to feel sorry for myself, you must peck me," she ordered. "Understand?"

Duck nodded once, and then took off to search for bugs along the pebbly shore.


	4. Threat to the Crown

**CHAPTER THREE**

**Threat to the Crown**

_Late April, 463_

_Corus_

The white spires of the upper city gleamed rose in the dawn light as the merchant ship _Traveler_ sailed into the riverside port on the Olorun's swift, deep current. Kel leaned over the prow, watching the barest ripples form at the apex of wood and water as they came one after the other in inexplicable repetition. A passing fisherman's boat broke her trance, and she shook her head to clear it of its fog before watching with barely suppressed delight as they sailed toward the docks.

Corus was a beautiful city in any light, kept clean and fairly free of wrong-doers by the Provost, patrolled by the city guard regularly, and kept whirling busily with trade and commerce. Viewed in the early morning, bathed in the sunrise and the salty smell of the far ocean, it was a glittering opal of architecture and culture, the heart of Tortall and the seat of its lifeblood: the Conté line.

Someone joined her at the rail. "She has her own special beauty, doesn't she?" Lord Wyldon's voice was pitched low enough that Kel had to strain to hear.

"Corus, my lord? She _is_ beauty."

The older man actually chuckled. Kel gripped the rail to keep from jumping in shock - and possibly to her death. "You may feel differently when we reach Carthak. It is a land of gold and gems."

"And slavery," Kel added softly.

"That is true. That land was built on the backs of slaves." Kel watched, fascinated, as the knuckles of his hand turned white as he gripped the rail. "It is a despicable trade, but one that will take years to abolish."

"My lord?"

"Could we abandon all foreign trade and survive, do you think?" he asked her. "The Carthaki Empire has woven itself so deeply into the trade and use of slaves that it will take years of effort and blood on the part of the Emperor and his council if they wish to disband the practice. We, now, are making the first step." One corner of his full mouth turned up. "I very much doubt Princess Kalasin will enjoy being served every moment of her waking and sleeping life by slaves. Her parents raised her better than that."

"Will she assent to marriage with the Emperor when so much is wrong with the country she may marry into?"

"She must," Wyldon replied. "She has known it for a long time. Monarchs do not have free will. They only have duty."

"And _that_ is why I'm glad I'm not royalty," Kel declared, attempting to lighten the mood somewhat. As she had hoped, Lord Wyldon's stiff shell dropped, and amusement sparkled in his clear amber eyes as he clapped a hand on her shoulder.

"As am I, Lady Knight." With a last nod, he departed to his chamber below to bring his belongings above-decks.

* * *

"Welcome, my friends," the king greeted them warmly as the party of nine rose from their bows and curtseys before his throne. "It is good to have you all back in Corus again."

King Jonathan's forty-seven years had treated him well, Kel noted subconsciously as they removed themselves to a more private room. His hair was still thick about his brow and black as pitch, with just a slight silvering at the temples and in the beard that neatly framed his well-defined jaw. The fine lines around his eyes and mouth only added wisdom to his countenance. The only things that truly showed the strain of running a country were his hands; weathered, with veins and tendons producing a network of trails beneath the flesh, they were more slender and delicate than she remembered.

"Thayet and I are most relieved that you have come," he began as they settled around a long table. "We feel the roles you have been assigned are close enough to your own to permit easy transfer between yourself and your alias, but far enough to douse any suspicion on the part of our mistrustful southern friends. Some training will be required, as you have found -" he nodded to Kel, Esmond, and Seaver "- but we are hopeful that this will take only a short while. Nealan, you will be obliged to spend much of your time in the palace with my family, learning the royal habits and ways. Seaver, as a Bazhir representative, you will be spending some time with Sir Ezenir, who is here in Corus with us before returning to Persopolis where his father is governor."

"Excuse me, your majesty," Neal broke in, "but won't our undercover missions prevent us from our more overt duties? How will we be able to guard the ambassadors if we are out and about currying favor to the Carthaki nobles?"

"You are partially correct," Queen Thayet agreed. "It will no doubt be a difficult balance to strike between your two responsibilities. Always remember that if the choice is between protecting the ambassadorial party and finding information or 'currying favor,' as you put it, you must choose to protect. However, we hope that your priorities will not clash so consistently. Ideally, you will do your guardwork in shifts, leaving you time to pursue more undercover activities. And you will always reporting to either Lord Wyldon or Lord Yaxley haMinch. They will help keep you sorted."

"Thank you, your Majesty," Neal said, bowing from his seat.

"You do make an excellent point, Sir Nealan, for the others as well as yourself," the king told him. "Mostly, however, they will be able to take care of themselves. The Baron is a knight in his own right, I believe, as are Yaxley and Duke Gareth."

Baron Piers chuckled. "You flatter me, Your Majesty. It has been many years since I've had to lift a sword. I am more accustomed to lifting books and quill pens, now."

King Jonathan smiled slightly. "That may be so, Baron, but I am sure you could do quite well in a pinch. Perhaps your daughter can give you a few pointers?"

Queen Thayet turned her gaze upon Kel and smiled warmly - almost impishly, but it was hard for Kel to be sure. "Lady Knight, I know you will find this difficult, being a warrior myself, but I am afraid you will have to become a courtier over the next few weeks."

Kel looked at her lap. "I am aware of that, Highness." She looked up, somewhat plaintively. "I suppose that means I must wear gowns?"

Thayet bit her lip to hide a smile. "I am afraid so. When this meeting is done, I am taking you to the royal seamstresses in order to get your measurements."

Kel bowed as Neal had earlier, trying to appear deferential. "Of course, Highness."

* * *

"I have taken the liberty of commissioning several outfits already, from Mistress Isran," Thayet told her later as she led the way to the Conté family's private chambers. "They are slightly Tortallan-style, but have more of the flowing, airy feel of a Carthaki gown. I tried to persuade Lalasa to come work for me at the palace as Head of Royal Seamstresses," she confided, "but she would not leave her little shop. Ah well," she sighed, permitting Kel to precede her into a room, "I suppose not even monarchs receive all they wish for."

Kel glanced at the Queen's face, trying to determine her meaning, but Thayet betrayed no emotion other than friendly courtesy as she led the way through two parlors, a private sitting room, and an open communal chamber where two ladies-in-waiting sewed upon a couch. They both made as if to rise, but Thayet's hand stayed them, and Kel soon found herself in a dressing room with two seamstresses in attendance.

Thayet frowned and looked around the room. "Daine was supposed to meet us here - maybe she's going to be a little later than she thought she would be." She shrugged. "Oh well. Marne, Philanona, could you please take Lady Kel's measurements? I'll be back in a moment." The two ladies curtsied as Thayet left the room, and had Kel strip to loincloth and breast band. The older one, Marne, was measuring her with knotted twine and the younger, Philanona, was jotting down notations, when the Wildmage sailed into the room, cheeks flushed and arms full of fabric.

"Kel! It's good to see you," Daine greeted her as she set her burden on the back of a green-brocade couch. "Isn't this exciting? I haven't been to Carthak in years!"

"You've been there before?" Kel asked, surprised even as she tried to hide her blush at being so blatantly exposed.

"Oh yes - back when Emperor Ozorne was ruling. Now Kaddar is in charge. It will be interesting to see what changes he's made to the city. Hello Thayet," she threw over her shoulder as the queen entered. "I just got back from the milliner's. Look at this beautiful damask! Isn't it the perfect color?"

Lifting the fragile fabric, Thayet held it against Kel's torso at an angle. The emerald color, interwoven with aged-gold designs, seemed to glow against Kel's skin, and she reached out one callused hand tentatively to touch it. The feel of it made her jerk her fingers away as though it had burned her. Thayet looked at her strangely.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"It's too pretty for me," Kel said, shaking her head. "My body isn't built for wearing this. I would be afraid of ripping it. Only ask Lalasa - she can tell you how many tunics I went through as a squire."

Daine shook her head, amused. "Don't be silly, Kel. What do you think you'll be doing in this? Jousting? Dueling with a sword? _This_ will be a dress for balls and parties and other amusements."

Both the older women laughed at the horrified expression on Kel's face.

"It won't be _that_ bad," the queen assured her. "You'll have Daine to relieve the boredom, and I'm sure the Carthakis won't begrudge you the use of their practice courts."

"I beg your pardon, but _why _are you going?" Kel asked Daine.

"I've been there before," the Wildmage explained. "As has Numair. The Emperor is - well, a friend of ours - and the king and queen are hoping a previous relationship will lessen some of the strain between delegations."

While Daine was talking, Thayet had selected one of the many dresses she had brought from the other room. Whisking away the damask, she put it its place a day-gown of crisp blue taffeta and baby's-breath silk. She spread it against Kel's shoulders and turned to Daine.

"What do you think?"

"Lovely," Daine approved. "Put it on to see if it needs any adjustments."

Kel obeyed, slipping it over her head and rolling her shoulders to settle it as Daine fastened it in the back. The two ladies stepped away to observe.

"Straighten up, girl," Thayet told her with a smile. "Chin up, shoulders back, hands just above your thighs, head angled to the side. There."

Daine pursed her lips. "You need to lose some of that muscle, Kel," she told her ruefully. "No, don't fret. We just need to change where the muscles are largest. Thayet?"

The queen nodded sagely. "Less shoulder and abdomen mass would do it, I think. Not even the head of the Royal Ladies has that much bulk on them. You're going to have to go lean, Kel. The Shang Lioness will help with that."

Kel raised her eyebrows. "The Shang Lioness? What does Alanna think of that?"

Thayet chuckled. "They're getting along like sisters. Here, take that one off and try this -"

"Oh my, that's beautiful!" Daine approved, fingering the white silk slashed-sleeves. "Perfect for a hot summer's day. The bodice work is lovely, too…"

"Isn't it? The pearls add an elegant touch, and the skirt is just loose enough to promote air flow…"

Surrounded by the chatter of the two women, Kel simply closed her eyes and steeled herself for a day of pure womanhood.

* * *

The next few weeks were brutal for Kel. It was like deportment class as a page all over again, only ten times worse. Who knew curtseying was such a fantastical feat? She vowed never to take another noble lady's accomplishments for granted.

She was also desperately jealous of her friends. Seaver spent much of his time with Ezenir abn Ilal, being trained in the ways of the Bazhir and in diplomacy. Merric rode with the Own much of the time, learning to be first a horseman and second a garrison knight who would infiltrate the lower ranks of the Carthaki Palace. Owen, honing his wit and flattery, was more often with the Palace nobles than his friends. But she had to admit, Esmond had the worst time of them all. He was acting as Lord Wyldon's political apprentice, and was studying fiercely with Duke Gareth the Younger of Naxen, the Lord Provost, and Lord Turomot alternately in matters of state and the government.

One day, after a grueling session with the Shang Lioness, Kel ran into Neal as he came barreling along the passage.

"Kel! Thanks the gods. The Royal Guard has spotted an assassin. We must get to the Royal Suite!"

This news spurred a shot of adrenaline to surge through her veins, and Kel took off ahead of Neal as they ran, wondering how an assassin had managed to make it into the palace in the first place.

Turning the corner at the beginning of the Suite, Kel spotted a black-clad man on the verge of slipping into the Queen's outer chambers. Her only weapon was her knife.

"Hey!" she shouted, getting the assassin's attention. She threw the knife at the same time she slipped and fell on a patch of grease. Cursing, she got to her feet, only to find that the pommel had knocked the man unconscious. "Tie him up," she ordered Neal, suddenly realizing what was going on as she spotted the masked man's signet ring glittering on his index finger. "Stuff him behind a suit of armor or something. Where are the others?"

"Owen and Wyldon are in with the Queen and Prince Roald," Neal answered as he obeyed. "The Royal Ladies are holding Shinko and Kalasin in the King's Suite with Merric. I don't know where Seaver and Esmond are."

Kel cursed again. "Neal! The King's Suite has _windows_," she threw over her shoulder as she jogged down the hallway, looking out for more grease as she scooped up her knife. A door opened, and she ducked and rolled to trip up another assassin. Wyldon stood behind him, a heavy paperweight in his hand. Kel sat on him and stuck her thumb into the pressure point at the base of the man's skull. He was out like a light. Neal came up in time to tie him up and dispose of him in a broom closet.

"How many are there?" he asked Wyldon.

"We don't know," Wyldon replied gravely. "Get in here with the queen and the prince while I search the hall. Kel, guard the windows if you please, and tell Owen to go find Esmond and Seaver."

"Yes sir," Kel replied, darting into the room.

Shinko and Kalasin were backing against the wall, pursued by yet another black-clad assassin. Owen lay crumpled on the floor by the open window, unconscious.

Kel attacked without thinking, jumping on the man's back and throwing him to the ground. His grunt sounded strangely familiar. She drew her short blade and pressed the flat of it to his throat. "Make a move and I'll spill all your blood," she told him. "Shinko, Kally, get away from the bed -"

Out popped another one, grabbing the two girls by the ankles.

"Wyldon, I need reinforcements!" Kel bellowed. Seaver leaped through the door, falling on the assassin's arm and forcing him to release the princesses with a snarl of pain.

"Sorry I took so long, Kel," he told her as she helped him to his feet. "Esmond and I were in the library."

"Is Neal at the door?" Kel asked as she rushed to check the window. A black arm snaked in, and she yanked the assassin into the room.

"Yes. Ladies, if you would just follow me," Seaver said, leading Shinko and Kalasin into the dressing-room.

"You did a thorough search?" Kel demanded when he returned with Merric, locking the door behind them. She tied the last knot, and arranged the three assassins on the bed in various states of consciousness.

"Yes," Merric assured her. "They will be safe in there."

Just then, Wyldon popped his head in. "Three? Good, we have four out here. We got them all."

"Just seven? I'm surprised they didn't throw ten at us," Kel said in disgust. "Nice of them to give us a warning."

"If an assassination attempt _does_ occur, we won't _have_ warning, Kel," Seaver rolled his eyes.

King Jon entered the room and surveyed the damage with a grin. Wyldon, Esmond, and Neal entered behind him. "Excellent work, all of you," he congratulated them. "Only one with minimal injuries -" with a nod to Owen, who was just beginning to come around, "- and all of them taken care of. Normally we would have let you find out if there were any left on your own, but we don't have the time, so I told Lord Wyldon what to expect. He left most of it to you, I hear, so I know I have nothing to worry about."

"Wait a minute," Owen said groggily, accepting Seaver's help to sit up. "That was _fake_?"

The others exchanged looks.

"Yes, Sir Owen, it was a ploy," Wyldon said, his voice drier than the Bazhir Desert. "See?" He removed the mask of the one Kel had tackled to reveal a grinning Raoul.

"That was _great_ fun!" he said decided, leaping up. "Excellent attack, Kel – I didn't even know you were there."

She bowed mockingly. "I live to serve, my lord."

"Ugh! I can't believe I thought it was real," Owen muttered disgustedly. "What if I had killed someone? You can't just pull a stunt like that and expect me to go along with it like it's a game."

"I wouldn't have let you kill anyone, believe me," Wyldon said. "I had my eye on you the whole time - including when you were nodding off during our meeting."

The young knight scowled at the ground and batted away Neal's helping hand. "Oh leave off, _Nealan_," he told him. "I've had enough of this. I need a Healer."

As soon as he had gone, everyone burst out laughing.

"Promise me something," Esmond gasped, doubled over in glee. "We must _never_ let him live this down!"

"Agreed," said Merric before he dissolved into another giggle-fit.

A knock on the dressing-room door interrupted them.

"Excuse me," came Shinkokami's voice, "but are you going to let us out or not? It's stuffy in here."

Each person looked around to meet the eyes of all the others in total silence. Jon allowed the quietest of chortles to escape and before anyone could take a breath, the entire room broke up into more laughter.


	5. When in Carthak

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**When in Carthak  
**

_Late April, 463_

_Corus, Carthak_

Morning came early for Kel. Rising at false dawn the day of their departure, she stretched her body and took down her practice glaive from its stand. Within seconds she was whirling, bending, flying back and forth as she let her body flow into the Yamani pattern dance. Gradually she picked up the speed, until the dull blade was a mere blur and she couldn't even see her own hands and feet. Passing the climax of the exercise, she slowed her movements to an easy contortionist's pace, moving smoothly from one position to the next. Standing perfectly still, she closed her eyes and smiled.

Soft clapping from the open doorway brought her snapping around to see who had watched.

"Yuki! What are you doing up so early?" Kel asked, putting aside the glaive to invite her friend in. Yukimi was still one of Shinkokami's ladies-in-waiting and thus lived at the palace, but Kel rarely saw her. She was glad to see her again before they left Corus.

"Neal told me you left today," her Yamani friend explained. "I just wanted to say farewell before you depart." Without warning, Yuki threw her arms around Kel and held her tight. The taller girl froze, alarmed by this excessive display of affection, before slowly putting her arms around her petite friend.

"Yuki, whatever is the matter?"

"How will I be able to do this without you? You've always been so steady and reliable…"

"Wait, wait, wait. Do _what_ without me?" Kel asked, confused.

"Be a good wife to Neal!" This sudden outburst was punctuated by a wide-eyed silence as Yuki regarded Kel with apprehension.

Kel bit her lip. "Yuki, you know I'm no expert on love-"

"That doesn't matter, you _always_ know what to say!" Yuki insisted.

"Well, why are you afraid of being a bad wife to Neal? He's all but head-over-heels for you, silly!"

"I know… it's just… you're going away for so _long_, and I… I _will_ stay true to him, but… he's just so _affectionate_. What if he finds someone else…?

Kel giggled. "Yuki, husbands and wives are _supposed_ to be affectionate! Besides, you know I'll be with him almost all the time. I can keep an eye out for him if you want me to."

Yuki blushed. "Thank you. It's just… I don't know how to handle it."

"Court can be trying sometimes, especially with all the handsome men around. Flirt if you must, but be careful about bedding someone else," Kel advised. "And tell Neal how you feel. He's not a complete meathead. He loves you enough to at least _try_ to understand, especially when you pull that dark, doe-eyed trick. Yes, exactly," she laughed as Yuki demonstrated.

"See? You_ are_ good at giving advice," the other woman told her.

"Well, write letters to me," Kel suggested as she began to shuck her clothes in preparation of the bath a servant had lugged in for her earlier. "I'll write back, and give you advice. And if it's an emergency, ask Cricket. She'll know."

"All right," Yuki agreed reluctantly, watching her friend slide into the lukewarm water. "Well, goodbye then. And Mithros guide you!"

After her friend had gone, Kel scrubbed in earnest, anxious to get moving before anyone else. After years of early mornings and proving herself, Kel had developed a habit of almost _needing_ to better than most of her fellows. Beating the rest of the delegation to the Throne Room was no exception.

* * *

The ride south by royal ship was far better than the trip to Corus by merchant vessel. There was less creaking and leaking, and Kel didn't get seasick once. They put in once at the Copper Isles, and Kel bought - at Thayet's earlier suggestion - several pairs of earrings and a few necklaces as the ship waited for the tide to run out.

After their stop in the Copper Isles, they then sailed directly to the Great Inland Sea, and landed at the bustling city of Korinth at the mouth of the Zekoi River. It was there that they were to be met by the escort sent to bring them to the capital, Thak's Gate, and the Emperor.

In anticipation of the heat of the Carthaki late autumn, Kel chose to wear a peach-pink day gown of light cotton, complete with open bishop's sleeves and various slits in the skirt to let air in beneath the petticoats. Daine helped her fasten the microscopic pearl buttons, and was kind enough to do her now-past-shoulder-length hair into a single dome. The Wildmage had pierced Kel's ears on the voyage, providing ample entertainment for the others, and so the Lady Knight wore the pearl earbobs and necklace without discomfort.

"Do I look alright?" she asked out of the corner of her mouth as they climbed the broad stairs to the deck.

Daine rolled her eyes, twitching her own blue dress in irritation. "_Yes_, Keladry, for the last time. Remember not to be nervous; hold your head up like you own the world. It's expected. You _are_ nobility, after all."

Kel bit her lip to keep from making a short-tempered remark. "I will try my best, Mother Daine," she said under her breath as they emerged on deck.

Kel closed her eyes in supplication as Merric, Neal, and Owen wolf-whistled. "Looking good, Mindelan!" Merric joshed her. Remembering her weeks of training, Kel greeted this remark with a cool stare and one barely-raised eyebrow.

Neal winced. "Ooh, the famous 'queen of the world' stare! I think you've just been insulted, Merric," he told his friend before moving forward to offer Kel his arm with a perfectly ordinary bow. "Lady Keladry, would you allow me?"

Kel curtseyed perfectly. "I thank you, my lord."

Neal gave Merric a smirk over Kel's shoulder, which she chose to ignore. Lord Wyldon clapped his hands together to claim their attention.

"My Lords and Ladies. Remember all you have been taught, and listen to the advice of your elders." He spared a glance for Neal. "There is nothing more I can say. You know what the Crown expects of you. Now go and do your duty."

"So mote it be," they murmured.

* * *

The Emperor of Carthak was truly an imposing man, Kel thought. He was made even more so by the fact that she couldn't for the life of her figure him out. He was as inscrutable as a god; which, Kel supposed, was to his advantage, especially with courtiers hanging on his power and a dangerously unstable country.

Aside from being imposing, however, Kaddar was also extraordinarily good-looking. His heavy-lidded black eyes were lined painstakingly with kohl that extended, wing like, to his temples. The black was underscored with a thin ribbon of gilt paint. His lips were thin, but set wide in a well-cut, strong-jawed face and framed by a short-trimmed pointed beard and mustache. His hair, though short, was coarse and tightly curled. From his powerful shoulders draped a tunic of gold brocade, fastened with jewel-studded clips. Golden loops and ruby studs dripped from his ears, and bejeweled rings encrusted his fingers. He shone like the sun in the light of the glass-domed throne room; it almost hurt just to look at him.

Neal, on the other hand, was agitated as they waited to be presented.

"Look at it," he told Kel under his breath (he was speaking of the ceiling), obviously trying hard not to dance in nervousness. "It's like the Emperor is holding up a big sign screaming: 'Hey, assassins, come and get me!'"

Kel patted his hand. "I know. But we're not here to protect the Emperor, are we? We're here to protect the ambassadors, and to get them out of here in a hurry if there _is_ trouble… which there shouldn't be. Look around you. Does anyone seem like they don't like the new rule?"

"No," Neal admitted. After a moment of peace and quiet, he said, "I have an idea - Master Salmalín!"

The mage in front of him, with Daine on his arm, turned at the sound of his name. "Yes, Master Nealan?"

Ignoring the tease, Neal asked, "Is that ceiling held up with magic?"

Numair looked up briefly, and nodded. "Yes. It is also reinforced. No ill-doers will be able to get into the palace _that_ way, my lord."

"I hate that title," he muttered to Kel. Nevertheless, the mage's answer put both knights at ease.

Just then, a herald approached them and bowed. "If my lords and ladies will follow me, I will announce you before the Emperor."

"Don't feel shy," Daine murmured in Kel's ear. "He truly is very nice. And count on it, the last emperor was _far_ more ostentatious than the present one."

"I'll take your word for it," Kel replied, eyeing the strands of exquisitely cut-and-polished gems that adorned the grand figure seated on the throne.

Baron Piers, escorting Lady Ilane, was the first to be presented, followed by Duke Gareth and his wife, Lord Yaxley, and Lord Wyldon; Piers then introduced the others as they came, singly or in pairs, to bow before the Emperor.

When Daine and Numair made their obeisance before him, Kaddar rose to kiss Numair soundly on both cheeks and draw Daine into an embrace. Kel did not hear what was said, but seeing His Imperial Majesty acting so like a human instead of like the god she expected put her much at ease.

"Sir Nealan of Queenscove," Baron Piers intoned. He paused only briefly before continuing, "Keladry of Mindelan, Lady Knight."

Kel curtseyed deeply to match Neal's bow, spreading her skirts around her gracefully. She allowed herself to smile faintly as she raised her head to meet the Emperor's eyes; but she recognized nothing of the humanity he had shown when greeting Daine, and so backed away wondering what Kalasin, if the time came, would make of this cold and stone-faced Emperor.

* * *

The first night, Kel couldn't fall asleep. In this perfumed and powdered guise, she felt choked. More than anything she wished she could be on the Tortallan/Scanran border, leading New Hope and getting baths only once every couple of days. It seemed as though she spent hours tossing and turning before she got up and threw open the window to let in the warm night air. Leaning her head on her arm as she sat at the window seat, she allowed her mind to roam…

_Kel pummeled the boxing bag relentlessly, taking vicious pleasure in every punch she threw. Even though the suspended, sand-stuffed canvas bag was no more alive than the padded gloves she wore as protection for her fists, her imagination supplied a much more tolerable victim: Joren of Stone Mountain._

"_I hate him!" she raged, throwing her weight against the helpless bag repeatedly. "Mithros, Goddess, and the Black God, I HATE him!"_

_A firm hand on her shoulder jerked her back, and she whirled so quickly she fell on her bottom in the hard-packed dirt of the practice court. Lord Wyldon stilled the rocking sack as he stared down at her with emotionless dark eyes._

"_What is the meaning of this?" he asked quietly. Kel bowed her head in shame._

"_I was angry, my lord."_

"_Yes, that was quite obvious." He offered her a hand up. "I know how you feel, Keladry. And I know what you would say," he added as she opened her mouth to question him. He rested his palm on the top of her head. "That sentence is no more fair than the probation I gave you first year." He rubbed his wounded arm absently. "Despite my former dubious expectations, you are truly a squire worthy of any training master's boasts; still, there seems to be one thing you have not yet learned." _

_This time, Kel lifted her face to look at him directly. "Sir?"_

_Lord Wyldon sighed and rubbed his hand over his scar. "Life is not always fair, Kel. It is a solemn, steady truth - perhaps the only thing we mortals can count on to remain unchanging throughout the course of time."_

"_I _do_ know that, my lord," Kel told her shoes. "It's just…" She clenched her fists, pressing them against her thighs to still the shaking. "It makes me _furious_ to know that the man behind the crime gets away with a piffling fine, and his puppets are the ones sentenced to so many years in the mines."_

"_And that fury is exactly what drove you to speak to the King today," Lord Wyldon said as led the way out of the practice court. "It is what made you want to argue the sentence, and to spark a change in the law." He squeezed her shoulder. "That's _exactly_ the kind of fury that a knight needs. A fury bent on justice."_

"_Do _you_ think I can do it, my lord?" Kel asked. _

_He looked down at her, the shadows on his face only partially obscuring the faint smile he wore. "Do what?"_

"_Become a knight."_

_He stopped, and lifted her chin to look directly into her eyes. "No, Keladry of Mindelan. I _know_ you can."_

* * *

For the first time since beginning her training as a page, Kel felt out of place. Daine, who was kind enough to show her the ropes, helped her dress in fancy, if practical, attire and arrange her hair each morning; these rituals were followed by making up her face and applying just the right amount of scent. But that was only the beginning.

The first week, Kel had guard duty rotation with Lord Wyldon and Neal. They sat in on the discussions between Baron Piers and the Secondary Imperial Advisor, and sometimes even the Emperor himself, in a six-day pattern. At first Kel found it mind-numbingly tedious; Neal's constant fidgeting the first day made it almost impossible to concentrate. The next day she was with Lord Wyldon, and he made it more bearable. Once, having fallen into a half-asleep daze, she drifted briefly back in time…

_You're the kind of knight I want to be._

_I am not. But that you believe it is the greatest compliment I will ever receive._

Kel's eyes opened, and she straightened her shoulders with a minute look in Wyldon's direction. He raised an eyebrow covertly, and nodded as though he had read her mind. She hid a smile, and faced forward again, concentrating as hard as she could on the topic at hand. If Wyldon could sit through this, doing his duty to the utmost end of monotony, then so could she.

Later in the morning, Wyldon stopped her as they filed out to eat lunch.

"I know it is hard to sit there for hours on end doing next to nothing," he told her. Kel nodded in agreement. "There are some tricks I know that might help you. We can discuss them over the meal."

"Thank you, sir," she told him fervently. An odd expression filled his eyes, but was soon replaced by droll humor. "As I recall, Keladry, you are also a knight, and thus a noble. 'Sir Wyldon' will do well enough, I think."

She curtsied with only a hint of mockery. "As you wish, my lord - I mean… _Sir __Wyldon_."

"Scoundrel," he informed her before strolling out to the dining hall, ignoring her protests that true gentlemen let ladies go first.

Over lunch, Wyldon proceeded to demonstrate several ways to relieve the boredom of sitting in on diplomatic assemblies. When they returned to the meeting room, Kel happily put these to the test. She was thoroughly occupied throughout the afternoon taking notes on important details, counting the number of windows, window panes, and other exits in case of an emergency, and plotting escape routes in her head. As they all rose for dinner, she gave him a disguised half-curtsey in thanks, and escorted her mother out to eat, vowing as she went to memorize a map of the palace so she could work out crisis exits on a larger scale when she was next on duty.


	6. New Trials

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**New Trials  
**

Kel was free from the guard cycle for next couple of weeks, and so she found herself with nothing to do but go in search of a map - in vain.

"I am very sorry, my lady," the Imperial librarian apologized sincerely. "We are still recovering and replacing many documents that were lost to us some years ago in a divine disaster. We do not yet have a full map of the palace in circulation." Thus, Kel had to make do with her own observations.

The one thing that did not change was Kel's daily morning routine with the Yamani glaive. At dawn each day she rose, splashed her face with water, and dressed herself in practice tunic and breeches. Even these were of fine cloth, oft cut in the Yamani wrap-tunic style and made of printed fabrics and exaggerated trim; but they were sturdy, and Kel allowed herself to make yet another exception for her expected femininity.

Her second free day, Kel rose as usual, picking up her glaive and trotting down to the practice courts. She had barely begun warming up when she realized Daine had followed. She was dressed for a workout in the flowing pantaloons and draping tunic of the Bazhir wrapped closely around her slim frame, a wooden practice glaive in one hand. The Wildmage spread her hands and smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, but I'm tired of lazing about, and the university was quick to lose its charm. Would you mind if I joined you?"

"Not at all," Kel said warmly. "I was just about to take a jog before beginning."

"Alright."

After a brisk run around the practice court and a brief period of stretching, they picked up their weapons. Daine had been one of the ladies to join the early morning practice session in Tortall, and wasn't half bad at wielding the practice version of the unorthodox weapon. Though Kel went easy on her, the older woman soon began to get the hang of using the Yamani stave; as time passed, the Wildmage became more confident in her strokes. Soon they were moving in a blur, Kel's blade flashing in the sun as they struck out, blocked, and struck again.

Suddenly Daine lost her grip on the glossy teak, and the weapon went flying out, nearly smashing into Kel's legs. She leaped out of the way just in time, meeting the flattened end of the stave with her own and catching the handle with her free hand. Daine looked at her with wide eyes, one hand pressed to her mouth.

"Oh gods, Kel, I'm so sorry!"

"Don't worry about it," Kel told her. "I could have protected us both from something much worse. Remember - I was raised on this thing." She hefted both glaives, and tossed Daine's back to her carefully. "I was waiting for something like that to happen, anyway. But you were doing very well."

Daine shook her head. "Thanks. But I think I'd better just sit back and watch you for now." Kel bowed to her friend's wishes, and stepped alone into the middle of the court to begin her favorite pattern dance.

So began the endless cycle. Twice a month Kel had two days in a row of guard duty, but as things progressed and began the slow-but-steady snowball into success, she found herself attending the meetings of her own free will. Not always for an entire day, but at least for a few hours, she perched on the long bench beside the long table where the Tortallan delegation sat, usually on her own in her interest of the proceedings. Though Tortall was in effect requesting a marriage between Kaddar and Kalasin, there were endless subjects that needed working out, little tidbits and difficulties that had to be resolved before the actual discussion could take place.

One day at lunch, however, she was confronted.

"Where is it you go half the day?" Merric asked first.

"You're almost never around," Neal continued -

"And when you are, all you want to do is sleep -" Owen cut in.

"The nobles and courtiers are beginning to notice," Esmond complained. "You're never here."

"I'm at the meetings," Kel explained. "It's really very interesting."

Neal made a face so comical she almost choked on her curry. "_Interesting_? You may not be gods-touched like Lady Alanna, but I know one thing for certain - you _are_ touched in the head!"

"Neal! I really don't see why it's such a problem," she complained. "Why shouldn't I be inquisitive, especially about this? Besides," she added, dropping her voice, "it gives me a chance to interact with the wives of the Carthaki noblemen."

"But remember," Seaver said gravely, "they don't expect you to be overly intelligent."

Kel was indignant. "They are perfectly aware that I was specially trained in everything a man would be at the university," she informed them tartly. "So why shouldn't I take an interest in the proceedings?"

"I think they expect you to be a little more… girly," Owen explained. "The courtiers, I mean. You _are_ a noble lady first and foremost, after all."

She smoldered, struggling with her temper. Her friends, wonderful as they were, made her so _angry_ sometimes. Setting down her spoon, she lifted her chin and leveled flashing hazel eyes upon her compatriots. "I thank you to respect my wishes and interests, my lords, but allow me to act as I see fit. I am grateful for your concern; however, it is unwarranted. Good day."

Gathering her skirts about her, she stood and exited the hall, back erect and nose in the air. She only relaxed when she was out of sight of the dining hall and the few courtiers making their way to or from it. Slipping into an alcove, she pressed her face to the cold marble and forced her wrangled nerves to steady themselves.

Crisp footsteps she recognized brought her out into the open, smoothing her hair and bodice as if she had been gathering her composure in a less demeaning manner.

"Keladry," Lord Wyldon nodded to her. "I was just looking for you. I meant to speak with you at lunch, but I was late, and when I came you had gone…"

She could see the knowledge of her tantrum in his eyes, and she fiddled with her fan to hide her blush. "What is it?"

"I have received messages from home," he explained, lifting a thick leather envelope with the king's seal on it. "There is something for you."

"Oh," she said, surprised as he handed her a letter. The front sported the words _Lord Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak_ in gold script. "Thank you."

The news from home was good and bad. The Third Company had been out and about recently, back to the old routine of removing as many maleficent immortals as they could from the Tortallan countryside. This, however, was not the bad news. According to Raoul, immortal-hunting was far more entertaining than the usual Court games, which were at a height due to the downwinding of the Scanran War and the foreign courtiers coming from everywhere to lay eyes on the famed beauty of Kalasin's younger sister Vania, who had recently celebrated her thirteenth birthday.

The bad news was a flood at the River Olorun, just north of the Great Road East. The Whitehorn Bridge had been washed out, keeping the nearby fief from getting disaster supplies, and since the Own and the Riders had both been busy tying up loose ends with Scanra - including prisoner escort detail - and abolishing immortals, the peasants had decided to rebel against Lord Masten of Whitehorn and take over the fief and surrounding areas.

* * *

"This isn't good at all," Kel said, waving the letter around in the common room that night so the others could see it. "Whitehorn produces a lot of Tortall's grains and freshwater fish. From what Raoul says, the floodwaters wiped out the lower half of the town and the commoner upstarts did the rest. Masten and his family are holed up in their castle until the Own gets there - and Third Company is south of Pirate's Swoop!"

"One thing we must learn to do is to be patient, and not let news from home upset us," Lord Yaxley rumbled as the younger knights stirred restlessly. Spare and thin, he nonetheless had the stance of a knight, if not the build. Close-cropped sandy hair was scrubbed through as the Minchi lord elaborated. "Foolish upstarts have been causing trouble all over the empire since the day it was founded, and will continue to do so until the gods decree the end of Time. King Jonathan will see to it that this little rebellion is under control as soon as may be."

A knock on the door closed the open mouths of those about to continue the debate, and Lady Ilane rose to open it gracefully. A slave entered and bowed low on his knees, presenting an envelope above his head with arms held high. "A misplaced letter for the Nobility."

The group exchanged glances. Exactly how convenient was this 'misplacement?'

"Thank you. You may go," Ilane told the servant gently. He bowed his way out the door, Kel banishing a twinge of disgust at his groveling as her mother returned to her chair. "It's for you, Wyldon," she said with some surprise as she handed it over.

He accepted it, slitting the wax seal and looking it over as his face became grim. "It's in code; must be important. Piers, you have paper and pen...?" With the required instruments in his hand, he got to work dissembling the letter as the others resumed the conversation.

"Who's going to Corus to give the first Report?" Neal wanted to know. "We're due for a message in less than two weeks."

"I was thinking to send any who are in need of a break," Duke Gareth answered. "Two at the least, but no more than three. I cannot afford to place too much risk upon our good ambassadors." The older man bowed briefly toward where Baron Piers and his wife were sitting. "Things are starting to get tighter."

"Will we have to leave soon, do you think?" Owen asked. "Not that I'm _bored_, of course…"

Kel hid a snigger. Owen had become a favorite with the ladies of the Carthaki court.

Ilane smiled as though she guessed the young knight's meaning. "Not quite, Sir Owen. The assistant Imperial Speaker _did_ lose his temper rather shamefully this afternoon, however."

Kel, who had been there, snorted. "I don't see that papa made such an unreasonable request. If we wish to limit gold trade if the Carthaki market continues to exploit us, why shouldn't we?"

"There is a delicate balance," Piers explained with unwavering patience, "that goes far back into the time of Jasson and Ozorne's father, Emperor Tzarhys. When-" But before the Baron-ambassador had a chance to tell them what the balance was, Lord Wyldon let out a strangled cry and turned ashen, dropping the paper. Ilane went to him immediately, and Kel, sensing a danger zone, went to make tea, stifling her curiosity and fear bravely.

When she returned, a steaming aromatic cup in her hands, Wyldon was gone. The others were gathered around the center table, silent as they stared at the offending letter. Ilane exited a room and approached her daughter.

"Wyldon just received some very bad news," she told Kel quietly. "His wife died suddenly; her funeral was three days ago. She was very sick, apparently."

Kel felt as though her stomach had dropped out onto the floor. She sat very suddenly onto a low divan pushed against the wall, heedless of the hot tea that sprinkled her hands and skirts. She had met Lady Vivienne of Cavall two years ago at Midwinter, and though the woman had not struck her as being very well-suited to her husband, she was still pleasant. It was now also very apparent that Wyldon, if not in love with his wife, had at least been very fond of her.

"Oh no. No wonder he turned so white," Kel whispered, raising her hand to her face unconsciously. Lady Ilane smiled sadly.

"You look fairly pale yourself, dearest. Give him the tea - he'll appreciate it. Then come back, and don't bother him again until he recovers. His pride won't allow anyone to see him in this state."

Kel nodded in wry agreement, and knocked on the door. "And then it's bed for me," she said softly to herself as her mother returned to the group. "What a tragic way to end the night."

A rough-voiced "Come" prompted her to open the door and enter the room. Lord Wyldon stood with his back to her, arms braced on the broad windowsill that doubled as a desk. He did not turn to face her.

"I brought tea, my lord," she whispered; her voice had failed her suddenly.

One hand, backlit by the torches from outdoors, gestured to the small bedside table. "Put it there." His voice was ragged from suppressing sobs. Kel hurried to do as she was bid. For a moment she wavered between staying and going, and then turned to go. A painful throat-clearing made her pause.

"My lord?"

"Thank you, Keladry. You have done me a great service this night."

_What great service?_ Kel thought, bewildered. _The tea? That was no great service, merely a kind chore_. Nevertheless, she did not stay to ask his meaning. She simply curtsied low enough for him to see her reflection in the window, and left the room.

* * *

Daine, who had known Lady Vivienne well, did not join Kel for her morning exercise. Feeling lonely, Kel decided to take a ride. Dressing in breeches, shirt, and a long modest tunic, she left the seemingly-deserted Tortallan Suite in favor of the Imperial Stables. Hoshi was there, stabled with the other Tortallan horses, and whickered eagerly as Kel approached her stall. But Hoshi was not the only one there.

Sitting on the wall that separated Hoshi's stall from the next were two teenagers. Kel drew near with care, unnerved by their twin green-gold gaze and their reverse coloring: the girl was dark-haired and swarthy, while the boy was pale and his hair possessed a shade of white-blond not often seen in Carthak. Both were dressed in simply-cut gray clothing that did nothing to dampen their exotic features.

"Hello," Kel greeted them politely as she entered Hoshi's stall.

"Hello," the boy answered shyly. The girl blinked coolly, but smiled.

"Is this your horse?" she asked in a breathy alto that sounded like wind over panpipes.

"Yes. Her name is -"

"Hoshi," the boy interrupted, and blushed faintly. "We know."

"She told us," the girl added. "Well, she told _him_. Rhys hears animals better than I do."

Kel blinked. "You hear animals?"

"We have wild magic," the boy called Rhys said proudly.

"He does," the girl argued instantly, "at least more than I do."

"She can focus on certain species better than I can," the lad demurred. "I'm Temrhys."

"And I'm Temara," the girl cut in. "Or Rhys and Temmy, if you like," she concluded with a shy smile.

"Well, Temrhys and Temara, I'm Keladry," said Kel, grinning despite herself as she shook their hands over Hoshi's back.

"Pleased to meet you," they chorused.

"Are you two familiar with Daine the Wildmage?" Kel asked as she began tacking up. "I'm sure she would be very interested to make your acquaintances."

They shrugged as one. "I might have heard of her," Temara said.

"We're not aloud at court much, you see," Rhys continued.

"And if you speak of the one who killed our father, then of course mama wouldn't have said anything," Temmy added.

Kel nearly dropped the bridle. "Your father?"

"Emperor Ozorne," Rhys clarified.

"Mama was his favorite wife," Temmy said cheerfully. "She was from Scanra."

"That's why we look so odd," her brother informed Kel. "But we never knew Ozorne. Now Mama's southaway in Rysander City. Probably a good thing, if this Daine is here. She never forgave her for what she did to Ozorne."

Kel shook her head in confusion. "Daine did nothing of the sort. It was a Stormwing who tricked Ozorne into changing himself into an Immortal. No one's ever seen him since."

Again, they shrugged together. "We don't care, much," Temara said. "We never knew him anyway."

Rhys closed his eyes a moment. "Hoshi wants to know when you're going to get going."

"Oh!" Kel laughed, slightly embarrassed. "Sorry, Hosh. I'll see you two around?"

Temara nodded sagely. "Probably."

Rhy waved cheerily. "Bye! Have a fun ride!"

Kel mounted smoothly and guided Hoshi out of the large stall with her knees. "Thank you!"

* * *

"_Two_ wild mages?" Daine repeated.

"Twins, some of Ozorne's offspring," Kel explained as she walked her friend down to the riverside later that day. Neal, Daine, and Lord Wyldon would be taking a report back to King Jonathan while those remaining continued to safeguard the others of the delegation. According to steady correspondence between Neal and his wife, Yuki was found to be with child, and of course Neal had instantly volunteered to be one of the small party. Daine, whose two children still stayed in Tortall, was making only the first of many trips back to see them. Wyldon's excuse was undisputable.

"All of a sudden I feel eager to get back," the Wildmage said wryly as she handed some of her baggage to a sailor.

"And when you do, you'll be all weepy and depressed at having to leave the children again," Kel replied cheerily. Daine laughed.

"You're probably right. Well, goodbye. Look after Numair for me - you know how absentminded he can be."

Kel fluttered her lashes in a debutante's impression of deep thought. "Why, I do believe I have a desire to spend some time at the University. What an interesting coincidence."

"Thanks Kel," Daine laughed. "I knew I could count on you."

* * *

It was only two days after the Report had gone, the Imperial Speaker and Piers had their first real face-off. Kel was present for guard-duty along with Merric, and barely managed to restrain the red-faced baron even as the Carthaki delegation held down the Speaker. That night was also the first time Kel was publicly ridiculed in front of the noble ladies.

It was at a garden party in the huge landscaping that enveloped the entire southeast side of the palace. Paper lanterns fluttered in the light breeze, and the scent of flowers nearly overwhelmed the ladies' perfumes. Kel felt rather intimidated at the prospect of attending without Daine to bolster her spirits, but went at Ilane's request - Baron Piers needed someone to watch him. So she decked herself out in yards of green and gold gauze that she felt troubled wearing, painted her face with the ease of long practice, and prepared to face the evening with some semblance of good cheer.

Watching, however, was the last thing on Kel's mind as she found herself enveloped by a ground of noblewomen. She only recognized a scant few; from the richness of their robes and the amount of jewelry dripping from necks and fingers, it was clear they were some of the higher nobility whom Neal was supposed to be befriending. Unnerved by their extreme self-decoration and excessive perfume, she found herself diving deep into her Yamani self to maintain an air of sophisticated calm.

"Lady Keladry, dear, we've hardly had a look at you since you arrived!" swooned the first, and most opulent, woman, opening the conversation straight away with an accusation. Kel could not recall her name, but she recognized her vaguely as the wife of the Vizier, Kaddar's foremost (but least liked and trusted) advisor.

Kel wished desperately for Neal to remind her of their names. Instead, she fanned herself with her painted silk fan to still her nerves. "I fear I have been much occupied with my uncle's affairs, my lady," she replied reservedly, keeping up the guise of northern formality.

"Oh dear, you mustn't be _too_ concerned about the menfolk," another – Lady Seratari? – chided. "They can take care of themselves well enough - most of the time."

"My mother often requires my attention, Lady Seratari," Kel answered with a pretty smile. Returning the subtle barb at her father's outburst earlier that day, she added, "I'm sure you understand." She was referring, as they all knew but pretended they didn't, to Seratari's mentally ill aunt, who was also Kaddar's mother.

"Truth be told," Seratari returned, an eyebrow raised, "I can see the source of your preoccupation. I am told the women of Tortall are heavily engaged in politics there!" This was followed by mocking laughter from the entire flock. Kel, quickly picking out Seratari as the leader and the first speaker as the second in command, turned her words to a doughy, feather-happy woman beside the Vizier's wife.

"And how is your daughter, Lady Kaffi?" she asked, knowing she was digging her own grave by mentioning the socially-ostracized Gifted daughter of Kaffi but hardly caring. "I understand she is deeply involved at the university."

Kaffi sniffed. "That as may be, Lady Keladry, but can you tell me just how is your mother? She must be mortified at her husband's… _uncouth_ presumptions earlier today."

Kel hid her flashing eyes with a flap of her fan. "I'm sure I do not understand you. In the north we consider such accusations to be made justly or not at all. I do not doubt Lord Asrael brought Baron Piers' wrath upon himself."

"My husband," sniffed a sticklike young woman with an unfortunate nose, "is always most reserved. Today must have been a particular strain up on his nerves."

"Lord Asrael," Seratari interrupted before Kel could insert a word, "was most sadly provoked, from what I hear."

"Indeed," the Vizier's wife was quick to agree, "I cannot recall a single time when southern delegations provoked his wrath so."

Kel smiled thinly. "Perhaps we of the north are not so aloof as we make out."

Asrael's wife jutted her lower lip out in an unbecoming sneer. "One thing I know for certain, _Lady_ Keladry. At least we of the south are not so barbaric as to allow women to become knights! _We_ southern women know our place."

"Tortall must be sadly lacking in honorable menfolk," Kaffi agreed mournfully. "What a pity."

"We take advantage of our assets instead of leaving them to rot," Kel shot back, barely managing not to snap.

"The gods made us different from men for a reason, Tortallan," a new woman rapped out. "We should not presume to know better."

"The gods have decreed nothing of the sort," sniffed another. "The only true difference is that _we_ beget _their_ children."

"Ylris!" Seratari hissed. "That is hardly polite conversation."

The one called Ylris snapped her fan shut, dark eyes flashing. "Do _you_ presume to make 'polite conversation', Sera?" With a haughty toss of her skirts, the petite woman left the circle. The others were quick to close in her space, speaking amongst themselves rather than with Kel as the night progressed. Nonetheless, Kel missed none of their conversations. By the end of the night she was more than happy to tear off the gown that had been dubbed various terms of unserviceable and wipe away her makeup with tears and ice-cold water.

The unfortunate garden party was not the last time Kel was forced to confront the snide ladies of Carthaki high society. Some days she felt more confident than others, and often Lady Ylris intervened with a snappish word or two in Kel's defense. A few days before her monthly was scheduled to begin, however, was not one of those days. Feeling hapless and uncoordinated without Daine by her side to guide her - her mother, unfortunately, was ill with a light southern fever and could not accompany the delegation to the evening boat party - Kel was forced to withstand the veiled insults alone.

* * *

Owen found her later, sitting in a forlorn heap in the small garden adjoined to the Tortallan Suite. Hearing the hitches in her breath and the sniffles she tried hard - angrily, even - to suppress, he wasted no time in going to fetch someone more capable.

Kel was half-drowned in self-pity and unhappiness by the time Merric arrived, just changed out of his party clothes into a simple tunic and breeches. His bare feet made no sound upon the flagstones, so Kel did not hear his approach; when he laid his hand on her shoulder, she was upright and in a ready-fighting stance before Merric had time to blink. She smiled ruefully through her tears.

"At least I haven't lost all my wits," she said, wiping the backs of her hands across her damp cheeks. Merric offered his handkerchief; she accepted. "Thank you."

"It's those Carthaki bitches, isn't it?" he said fiercely, his words burning through the dark night like a beacon. "I thought so," he went on without waiting for confirmation from the startled Kel. "I see them, hear them, sniping and gossiping and degrading every other woman there but themselves!" His hands, softer than his voice, rested on her upper arms. "They aren't making a special project of you, you know. You're just someone new to destroy with their words and jealousy."

"They're more barbaric than they think _we_ are," Kel agreed, trying to sound hard and angry, but only succeeding in sounding pathetic. To her surprise, he leaned his forehead against hers and ran two fingers lightly down her neck. "Merric?"

"You remember what I said at New Hope, Kel?"

Kel looked away from the penetrating gaze so close to her. How could she have forgotten?

_If - if you ever need someone…_

_Between now and early tomorrow morning?_

_Yes. Or ever. Circumstances don't matter._

A callused palm slipping under the stiff material of her sleeves woke her from her recollection; a kiss pressed to her shoulder woke her up completely.

"Merric…"

"Just say the word, Kel, and I am yours," the knight told her firmly, taking her hands. "No strings attached," he added with a lopsided smile.

Something inside Kel loosened - a knot that had been tangling itself for many months, - and she leaned against Merric's shoulder without guilt. "Thank you." His arms wrapped around her, and with surprising ease, he lifted her and bore her to his bedroom without strain.


	7. Glaive Lessons

**CHAPTER SIX**

**Glaive Lessons**

_November-December, 460_

_Carthak_

With Merric's help, Kel found the strength to withstand the nastiness of the court ladies. She spent much of her free time with Temrhys and Temara, teaching them combat techniques while they gave her tours of the city and the university, where they spent much of their time. Both, Kel came to find, were not well-loved among the Carthakis, who often referring to them as 'Ozorne's bastards.' Living up to her title, Kel did what she could to provide them with a means of surviving in the palace.

By wheedling with the Carthaki stable master, she was able to secure a position for Rhys in caring for the horses. Temara was a little more difficult, but eventually Lady Ylris, one of the few friends Kel had made in the higher circle of noblewomen, consented to take the girl under her wing as a personal maid. And when Daine, Neal, and Lord Wyldon returned, the Wildmage took over their training when she could, teaching them how to use their magic as well as she was able.

"I don't know what I can do about Temmy," she confided to Kel late one evening as they splashed about in the ladies' baths. "Her wild magic is so limited, it's hardly wild magic at all. She can speak to birds a little, and seems to get on fairly well with most types of rodents, but anything larger is a struggle for her."

"Could it be her personality?" Kel ventured, slightly out of her depth. No one in her family possessed any magic, and so she had little knowledge of how it worked.

Daine coated her hand in the blue-green bath crystals at the side of the pool and began to lather herself. "It's possible. I have more of a feeling it has something to do with her past."

The Wildmage seemed reluctant to continue her explanation, but Kel's curiosity was piqued. "Her past?"

"Yes." Daine hesitated again, and gave her a wry look. "If I tell you my speculations – and they're just speculations, mind you! – will you promise not to throw a fit?"

Mystified, Kel agreed. "Of course."

Daine's green-hazel eyes narrowed. "Swear?"

The Lady Knight rolled her eyes. "I swear by my shield and sword, I won't throw a fit!"

"Very well." Daine rinsed off the soapy residue left by the bath crystals, watching the faint color swirl in the steaming water. "The twins are… about fourteen, I think. You wouldn't think it to look at Rhys – he's so scrawny. Hasn't hit his growth spurt yet. But Temmy is starting to become quite a lovely young lady, and more than a few men in the palace are beginning to notice. Nobles and slaves alike."

Kel tried very hard not to grind her teeth, and almost succeeded. _I swore by my shield and sword, dammit, and now I have to keep my word!_ she reminded herself as Daine continued.

"If she was as pretty five years ago as she is now, I wouldn't be surprised if a few court perverts thought to get their jollies by fooling with an ex-royal bastard girl who no one gives a shit about." The Wildmage huffed to herself. "Sorry. I guess it gets under my skin, too."

"But what does that have to do with her wild magic?" Kel asked, trying to change the topic before she broke her vow.

"Mental and emotional trauma has been known to affect magic," Daine explained. "Mine was very inhibited for a long time after my mother's death. Tamara's magic seems to be functioning fine, just on a… lesser level."

"And will she ever reach full potential?"

The Wildmage shrugged. "It's possible. I'm not much of an expert, really. I keep meaning to speak with Numair, but he's been so busy at the University. I hardly see him."

"No one has," Kel agreed. "I think I've seen him in passing twice while you were away. I tried to keep an eye on him, but…"

"It's okay," Daine interrupted genially. "He's a big boy."

"And how is… Lord Wyldon?" Kel asked carefully. "I have not yet seen him."

Daine looked at her, enviable void of expression. "Why don't you ask him?"

Kel suddenly became very interested in the mosaic tiles in the bottom of the pool. "I don't want to be presumptuous. It _is_ a very delicate subject, you know," she added defensively." Her friend chuckled.

"You show you care by asking _him_ after his own welfare, not _me_. There is to be a boat party tonight, during which I shall endeavor to dismay every single lady that approaches you. That should give you plenty of time to pop the question."

Kel hid her irritated blush by splashing her friend liberally with water.

* * *

It was a fair night for a boat party, Kel admitted to herself as she admired the silvery clouds scudding cheerfully along the sky, propelled by a stiff breeze in the higher regions of the stratosphere. Down below on the broad indigo river, an occasional light wind was the only disruption in the vaguely chilly evening, causing wicker torches to dance and ladies' skirts to flutter merrily.

Kel was mostly comfortable in a bold-hued bronze-orange gown of delicate taffeta that had slits up the sides to allow free movement. A gold-striped ginger _sari_ of the Copper Isles completed her exotic ensemble. Hidden skillfully beneath her loose garments were several flat Raven daggers, and two poisoned blow-darts were disguised within the bamboo ribs of her broad silk fan. Baron Piers was taking no chances tonight.

As Daine had promised earlier, not one noblewoman bothered her for the entire evening, leaving her plenty of time to speak with Lord Wyldon. So, after half an hour of sipping various drinks and nibbling the outlandish hors d'œuvres that graced the long table on the port side of the pleasure boat, Kel went looking for him.

She found the Lord of Cavall leaning against the prow as he leaned over to look into the water. Firmly swallowing the ridiculous thread of nervousness that spiraled up into her throat, she said, "What is it you are looking for, my lord Wyldon?"

He did not seem surprised at her presence. Without turning, he replied, "Answers." Then he looked at her, a wry smile on his face. "You see I brood terribly."

Kel, shocked at his appearance, did not reply, but instead stepped back and curtseyed low as a sign of respect and mourning. The incredible weariness in his eyes was second only to the sadness embedded deep into the elegantly carved lines around his mouth and brow. Although he was as handsome as he had ever been, it seemed as though his age had suddenly fell upon him in a single, horrible moment, dragging him to the ground. She felt overwhelmed by his uncontestable display of mourning. Every stitch of black cloth made her feel ridiculously gaudy.

In a moment of sanity, she suddenly remembered her reason for seeking him out. "I came to ask how you were, my lord," she murmured, feeling silly. _Look at him!_ her mind nearly screamed at her. _How do you think he is?_

A flicker of amusement in his eyes showed her he knew her thoughts. "I think it is better for me to be in Carthak," he said, neatly avoiding the heart of the question. "If I were not here… well, it gives me something to do. Dutifully attending parties is better than moping about at home." Kel could hear the disgust in his voice, and smiled hesitantly. _This_ was a part of Lord Wyldon she remembered. He would go above and beyond the call of duty for the Crown, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"Daine tells me she went peacefully, free of sickness."

Lord Wyldon bowed his head in a slow nod. "That is true. But it… it pains me that my last glimpse of her was a strained one." He shook his head. "We were not on the best of terms when I left for Carthak."

There was nothing she could say to that. She began to curtsy to take her leave, but he stopped her with a single phrase: "I hear you are uncommonly close with Sir Merric these days."

Kel snapped her head up to look into his eyes. He, like Diane earlier that day, conveyed no emotion. "I am." What else could she say? He pressed her further, however, simply nodding.

"If it wouldn't be a trouble, Keladry, would you mind teaching me how to use the glaive?" he asked abruptly. "I fear I am slacking in my morning routines, and could use something new to keep my mind… focused on my goals."

"Certainly, my lord," Kel replied, surprised at the request but happy to do her part in assisting his emotional and mental recovery from the shock of Vivienne's death. She curtsied low this time, allowing her smile to show above the folds of her _sari_. "You may join Daine and I tomorrow, just shy of daybreak in the stables. We run from there around the palace before beginning," she clarified.

Wyldon bowed in return, the heavy sorrow in the lines of his body lightening just a bit. "It would be an honor."

* * *

"Ready stance, my lord," Kel commanded, gratified to see her old training master was a bit stiff in the joints from the uncommonly humid weather. It made it more of a challenge for him to succeed. Although she laid down the hardest commands and moves, however, he made no complaint, even when his body sagged between exercises. He sagged now, briefly, before obeying. It made Kel strangely giddy to know _he_, her former personal hell-denizen, was now minding her as though she were a professional teacher.

"You really should have practiced more on your way from Tortall," she chided him as she allowed him to make the first move. She blocked the slightly lethargic overhead swing with an under-hook, and finished the pass with the sword-similar butterfly movement to his right shoulder.

"I know. This is why I'm putting myself through this hell," Wyldon growled, suddenly coming out with a quick flurry-pattern of offensive strikes to her sides. Stepping back lightly, she blocked each one neatly and sidestepped a staggered blow that landed in the dust. Daine booed from the sidelines.

"C'mon, ya old coot, is that all ya got?" she leered in a rather good impression of an unschooled sailor, complete with an enviable display of expectoration. Wyldon sneered back at her, the perfect haughty nobleman, and caught Kel off guard with a quick nip at her torso.

Kel's guard was not all he caught. With a neat nicking sound, the laces of her training bodice came apart, nearly dropping the entire thing to the ground. Kel grabbed it just in time, dropping her glaive instead. More amusingly, Wyldon's eyes popped in shock, just before he spun quickly on his heel as she made herself decent.

"Please forgive me, Lady Knight," he muttered, the back of his neck blushing beet red from Kel's point of view. "It was entirely an accident, I assure you."

Kel struggled not to burst out laughing as she quickly retied the foolhardy laces and attempted to get herself back in order. "It's perfectly fine, my lord," she wheezed. She coughed in an attempt to clear the hysteria from her throat. "You win this round, I think?"

From the sidelines, Daine collapsed in laughter at Wyldon's pained expression.

From that day on, Kel wore soft, slip-on, cowl-necked tunics to her glaive practice, taking every opportunity to pit Daine and Wyldon against each other so that she could see where they needed improvement. When demonstration was necessary, she stepped in and explained with her movements how to fight glaive to glaive. Sometimes the twins Temrhys and Temara showed up, watching silently with their wide, slanted eyes.

"They give me the creeps," Neal declared one afternoon as they sparred casually with swords in one of the practice courts. "Always playing off each other with those eerie comments of theirs."

"You should spend more time with them," Kel suggested. "Strange things become less strange the more you get to know them."

Neal cocked his head. "That sounds like a comment that could come back to haunt you."

Kel yielded to his blade and stepped back with a laugh. "Why be afraid of the truth?"

Her puck-like friend shrugged, saluting her with his blade. "Sometimes we say things we think we believe in, and then something happens that throws our perspective all out of whack."

Kel blinked. "Wow Neal, congratulations on that philosopher's degree."

He swatted her playfully. "You'll see what I mean eventually."

"Why, what did you think you believed in?" Kel asked.

"That's just it. I _didn't_ believe in it."

"In…?"

"Love."

Kel grinned. "Yuki's good at proving men wrong."

Neal looked uncomfortable. "It wasn't Yuki who proved me wrong."

Before Kel could ask him to elaborate, he trotted off for the weapons rack, and then the men's bathhouse where she could not follow to pester him into clarifying. Shrugging, Kel went her own way with a lot to think about.

* * *

"Keladry, may I speak with you?" Lady Ilane inquired, poking her head into her daughter's room where Kel was sketching the western portion of her makeshift palace map.

"Sure, Mama," Kel replied. She summoned her mother into her room with a wave of her hand, and the Baroness closed the door behind her before sitting on her daughter's bed. "What is it?"

Ilane smoothed Kel's coverlet with careworn hands. "It has been a while since we've spoken, my daughter."

Kel looked puzzled. "I thought we talked only yesterday -"

"I remember distinctly it was in the summer, during the Great Progress," Ilane interrupted. "And you came to me asking about love and all that comes with it."

"Oh. Cleon…"

Ilane smiled. "Was he the object of your affections?" She paused. "It seems you have a fondness for red-haired, boisterous men."

Kel squirmed, thinking of Neal and Dom. "I think it only seems like it."

Ilane raised an eyebrow. "'Only seems like it'? If you'll forgive a mother's curiosity… what exactly _is_ your relationship with Merric of Hollyrose?"

"We're sleeping together," Kel said blandly. "Is that what you wanted to know?"

"I want to know if you're fooling around or really mean it this time," Lady Ilane retorted sharply.

"What do you mean 'this time'?" Kel demanded. "It's not like I sleep around with every other man I meet - Merric is only my _second lover_."

"Your lover or your plaything?" Ilane asked, her voice gentler this time. "Kel, when I told you the Goddess gave us freedom with our bodies I didn't mean she gave us the right to use it for shallow purposes."

"Merric offered himself to me out of consolation, Mama." Kel rubbed her face with her hands. "I needed some kind of proof that I'm not the hideous creature the Carthaki ladies think I am."

"If you're not careful, love, you may capture his heart without meaning to," Ilane cautioned her. "And when you have it in your hands, what will you do with it?"

"He promised no strings attached…"

"And when a man wants a woman and thinks he can wile her into 'loving' him, that's exactly what he'll say," Ilane said with quiet conviction. "Trust me, dearest. I know."

"Maybe I _do_ love him," Kel said defensively. Her mother played the eyebrow card again, and she sagged into the mattress. "I do love _some_ things about him."

"I'm sure you do," Ilane agreed. "But do you love all of him? Do you love him enough to settle down at Hollyrose, become his wife, bear his children until you are too old to be a knight any longer?"

"Merric knows me, Mama," Kel snapped, fed up with her mother's over exaggeration. "He wouldn't tie me down like that. We'd… we'd roam the world together, as knight-errants…"

"Is that what you want, my child?" Ilane inquired softly.

"I am not Lady Alanna," Kel admitted. "I _do_ want a home, and I _do_ want a husband… but I also want to be a knight and serve the Crown! I am the Protector of the Small, Mama, much as I dislike the title, and I must live up to it."

Ilane smiled. "There are many things you want."

"I know! But I see no reason why I cannot have all of them," Kel said crossly, sounding petulant even to herself. Her mother laughed out loud.

"We shall see, my dear. Please think over what I've said, though… I've no wish to see either you or Merric to be hurt by this little fling."

Kel kissed her mother on the cheek despite her irritation. "I will, Mama. Thanks for giving me some food for thought."


	8. Trouble in Carthak

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**Trouble in Carthak**

_November 461_

_Carthak_

The rain fell hard on the twenty-first of November, forcing Kel and Wyldon to call a halt to their glaive training before they had hardly begun. Their clothes steaming in the warmth of the indoors as they tread lightly in their sopping tunics, they made their way past the dining area where the servants polished cherub statuettes and set out the silver for the morning meal. They were relatively silent, carrying their practice glaives easily at their sides, neglecting to make any comments that might shatter the peace of the morning.

As they passed the long, winding terraces that were built out over the famous Hanging Gardens on the western side of the palace, Wyldon stopped Kel by touching her lightly on the shoulder. Wordlessly she looked at him in question, and he jerked his head to the glass doors.

"Listen."

Kel closed her eyes and strained to hear. Through the thick crystalline panels she could faintly hear the roaring of the torrential winter downpour. A click brought her eyelids up in a trice; but it was only Wyldon lifting the latch and pushing open the door. The dull thrum became a roar, and Kel went out onto the terrace to watch the silvery strands sheet down.

"You can see the wind blowing it aside like tree branches," Kel said just loudly enough to be heard over the bellow of the rain, pointing with one finger. Wyldon just nodded.

As though hearing Kel's words, the wind rushed towards them, flinging the fresh rainwater directly into their faces. They both leaped back and into one another, legs and glaives tangling as they attempted to stay upright _and _keep the dull blades out of the other's way. In the end they lay sprawled on the cool marble of the terrace, Kel's practice glaive thrown some distance away while she lay on Wyldon's, his weight resting tolerably on her own. A droplet of water ran down the aristocratic arch of his nose and plopped squarely between her eyes. This broke the shock that had frozen them, and they both laughed freely.

"My apologies," Wyldon said, carefully detangling himself from his glaive and Kel's tunic, which was twisted all out of shape around him, her, and the sleek wooden handle of the weapon.

Kel shook her head. "My fault, I think. I jinxed the wind to - oh no!"

With an ominous _crack_, the wooden downspout broke at its precariously placed joints, dumping water liberally over Wyldon's back. Unfortunately it sprayed up over his shoulders and into Kel's face as well, getting in her eyes and causing her to cough forcefully.

"Don't you dare say another word, Keladry," Wyldon joked as he rose a second time, successfully assisting her to her feet. "Let's get back to the common room before I catch my death."

"_Your_ death?" Kel asked hotly. "What about _mine_? Aren't _I_ the fragile young lady?"

He glanced briefly at the rippling muscles of her torso and shoulders, displayed rather wantonly by the white cotton that was plastered to her body; Kel hung her hair over her face to hide a fierce blush. "A lady you may be, but fragile you are not. Perhaps you'd like me to offer you my arm?"

Kel was saved from answering as they rounded a corner and encountered Neal. Seeing them in their sopping state, he blustered and blushed before getting out of their way. Kel kept silent for the rest of the trip, and luckily Wyldon did not press her.

* * *

Lady Ilane looked uncommonly weary as they gathered in the common room that evening after dinner to discuss the day's events. Baron Piers was the last to enter, as usual, and was gray-faced and withdrawn. He lowered himself to the couch with a barely-suppressed groan and rubbed his hand over her face.

"I fear we may need guards tonight," he said to the hushed assembly. "I said something uncommonly foolish during negotiations today, angering many of those listening. They may be fed up with my northern nerve by now, so just as a precaution…"

"Consider it done," Duke Gareth rumbled. "Shall I set two at a time for each watch?"

"That would be best," Ilane nodded, remaining regal despite her anxiety. Kel felt a rush of affection for her mother, who withstood so much and upheld so many others' burdens when they themselves were too weak. Kel wondered who carried Ilane's worries when _she_ was stressed.

Kel took her turn at guard duty with Owen that night as they kept watch in the wee hours of the morning. There was no disturbance through the dark of the night, and in the light of dawn Kel woke somewhat grainy-eyed but not much the worse for wear.

* * *

Wyldon did not come to glaive practice, but Neal showed up with a sword , bow, and the Yamani arrows that Yuki had fletched for him when he went to Tortall to report. In silence they warmed up and sparred for half an hour around the court before setting up targets to shoot at.

"Kel," Neal said suddenly, "I need to tell you something." Kel turned to look at him and leaned on the longbow obligingly. He took a deep breath and looked down at his bow, fiddling with the string.

"You might as well get it over with," she told him. "Is this about who taught you to love?"

He made a face. "Yes." Kel was about to open her mouth when he said in a rush, "Remember that fellow at Haven who all the ladies liked?"

Kel blinked slowly to hide her shock. "The one with… a preference for other men?" she asked slowly. She swallowed hard when he nodded.

"Um…"

"You prefer men over women," Kel said dully. _All that time during page-hood…_

"Yes. No. Kind of." He scratched his tousled, sand-colored hair absentmindedly. "I mean, I love Yuki. She's my wife, and it makes me happy to give her all of myself."

"Well, she _is_ pregnant," Kel reminded him dryly.

Neal blushed vibrant crimson. "Yes. But I also…"

_And Yuki was worried about him being led astray by the _women_ of the Carthaki court!_ Kel thought to herself. She felt breathless with shock, and nearly burst out laughing hysterically at the irony. "You like men and women. Okay. I get that," Kel said, more for her benefit than his. "Who else knows?"

"Just you, now, and…"

Kel bit her lip in order to prepare herself. "And the one who…?"

"S-Seaver," he croaked out. Kel dropped her bow and her jaw.

"When?"

"Um. Our last Midwinter as squires." His mouth parted like putty in a weak grin. "Midwinter luck and all that."

"Er… yeah. Are you still…?"

"Lovers? No." He shrugged as he bent to pick up her bow. "The temptation's there, of course… but I don't know how _he_ feels, and I don't want to break my vows with Yuki just for a good time. Maybe someday, when I have the courage to tell her… don't laugh at me like that, Keladry! Maybe she'll understand, and let me… I dunno. See if that part of me is still around… Kel?"

The sound of her name snapped her from her reverie: _That's why Seaver's never shown an interest in dancing or women. Owen and Merric always tease him mercilessly, but Neal's never said anything…_

"Kel!" He was shaking her shoulders. "You look kinda funny… have I overdone it? Maybe I should've just kept quiet -"

"No, no… I'm glad you did. I, uh… I understand a lot of things now," Kel assured him. "Want to keep shooting?"

This time a real smile lit up his face. "Sure. You can go first."

* * *

Kel was usually the one to go to Merric's room, but tonight she stayed in and took a long, hot, private bath. To give herself a little extra encouragement she sprinkled rose petals from the garden into the steaming water before scrubbing and soaking blissfully in the copper tub. She tensed at a knock on the door, but it was only Ilane.

"I wasn't sure I'd find you hear, my daughter," the baroness confessed with a slightly apologetic smile. "Am I… interrupting anything?"

"Nothing whatsoever," Kel replied cheerily. "I'm just being lazy while I wait for my watch - I'm up an hour before midnight with Wyldon. Speaking of which, do you know what he was up to today? I didn't see him at all, and he wasn't up for glaive practice."

"I don't know - I'm not sure he even came out of his room until late morning," Ilane replied as she busied herself with towels.

"Is there anything you came to talk about in particular?" Kel wanted to know, turning over on her side to give her back a rest and submerge more of herself in the bathwater.

"Not in particular. Your father and I _were_ talking about having you go on the next Report to have a break from these dismal winter rains…"

"And to get my head screwed on straight, right," Kel clarified. She smiled at her mother's guilty expression. "No fear, Mama - Neal did it for me. It _would_ be nice to get away for a while, though. I'm missing the cool of Tortall right about now." _And it will give me a chance to get used to this whole two-of-my-best-friends-aren't-into-women thing…_

Lady Ilane soon left after chatting briefly about the ambassadorial progress, and Kel got out of the bath and began to dry off. She was changing into her undershirt (complete with inside pockets for knives and other sorts of useful things) when there came another knock on the door. Feeling somewhat apprehensive, she slid on a dressing gown and went to see who it was.

Merric was leaning against the doorpost, hands in the pockets of his breeches. His expression was unfathomable.

"May I come in?" he asked quietly. Kel steeled herself and nodded. She had nothing to be ashamed of by not going to him tonight. But what did he mean by coming to her? They had agreed that she would come when she felt like it…

"What is it?" she asked, perching on the desk that was pushed against one wall. To her disconcertion, Merric followed and stroked her thigh gently.

"Why didn't you come tonight?"

Kel caught his hand and held it meaningfully. "I think it's time we ended this, Merric. It does neither of us any good in the end. It was a comfort while it lasted, and I thank you for being willing to help me bear my insecurities. But I'm all right now."

Merric nodded slowly and squeezed her hand. "All right then." He smiled awkwardly, meeting her eyes. "I'm glad I could help. And if… no?" he corrected himself, seeing the look in her eyes. She shook her head.

"Not again, Merric. I need to do what I can to be strong as a woman, and not let myself develop bad habits. If that means correcting the damage, then so be it. But it definitely means not going and doing it again. You understand?"

He nodded reluctantly, and leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Good night, then. And happy guarding."

She smiled in relief as he left. "You too."

* * *

The night was cool and silent. The rain that had recently stopped allowed the windows to be opened, and soft breezes found their way into the center chamber where Kel stood guard. Wyldon made the rounds throughout the public rooms, and peeking in the private ones to make sure all was well. Every quarter hour they switched, until three hours had gone by without interference. Kel was about to put the spear she held under the divan for the next three-watch to use when Wyldon materialized out of the shadows, a finger to his lips. Beckoning, he pointed to the door. When she was near enough, he put his mouth to her ear and breathed,

"In the corridor."

Kel nodded and gripped her spear more firmly. Whoever it was had clearly paid attention to their watch patterns and knew when their guards would be changing, possibly leaving a few minutes with no one on the alert. That was _definitely_ a bad thing.

Her musings were interrupted as Wyldon waved her back towards the divan that was pushed against the wall between his room and Kel's parents'. Putting the sword he held flat on the floor beside it to hide the gleam, he took her spear from her and propped it against the quilted arm of the couch. Kel grasped his meaning before he spoke, and laid down on the couch. It was embarrassing, but necessary, she reminded herself as he positioned himself on top of her in a way that would not slit either of them open with the many weapons they had concealed under their clothes.

Kel strained to hear any sound from outside the room as they feigned sleep, eyes all but closed. Wyldon was so close she could feel his eyes moving constantly, from locked window to door and back again.

The door opened without so much as a creak. A shadow crept in, naked daggers in both his hand. Wyldon met her eyes with a stern order to stay put emanating from his entire face; then he dropped and rolled, the sword appearing in his hand by magic as he caught the would-be assassin off-guard and disposed of him with a quick rap to the skull with his pommel. Kel slid into action then, spear at the ready and one hand to the knife thrust into one of the many hidden pockets of her tunic as she walked stealthily to the open door.


	9. A New Threat

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**A New Threat**

_December 460_

_Carthak_

A black hood peeked around the edge of the door, and Kel pounced, jamming the offender's solar plexus with the butt of her spear. A flashing scimitar came down, slicing through the wood handle with enviable ease before she could bring her dagger up. By the time it was free of her pouch she was flat on the ground, pinned by a heavy boot. She slashed blindly in the dark, and suddenly the foot was lifted off as Wyldon did something that made the man gurgle and fall over.

She sat up - too quickly. The bruised muscles in her abdomen complained stridently at the sudden movement and she laid back quickly.

"Any more?" she managed to gasp.

"No," came the low reply. "I think whoever was behind this attack wanted to make it as unnoticeable as possible." There was a heavy pause. "And he almost succeeded."

A hand reached down and felt blindly for hers; she accepted, and Wyldon hauled her to her feet. "Anything broken?"

"No - I think that boot tore a muscle, though," Kel said ruefully as she rubbed her stomach. He gave a sharp nod, commander through and through.

"Get Owen and Esmond to help me while you tie this one up - the other two, I fear, will have to be disposed of."

"But I used the end of the spear!" Kel protested as she made her way across the darkened room to where Owen and Esmond resided.

Wyldon was kneeling beside the assassin who had peeked around the door. When he looked up at her, she saw blood reflecting moonlight on his fingers. "Too hard, I'm afraid, Kel," he told her gently. "Go and get the others - we'll take care of these while you deal with the other fellow."

Kel nodded, but did not respond. Being a knight for a few years did not qualify her to be immune to killing, she realized as a raw sensation gnawed at her stomach. If anything, it only amplified it.

Left alone while Esmond, Owen, and Wyldon took care of the evidence of the battle, she hefted the unconscious assassin into her arms, surprised at his lightness. Taking a peek under the hood, she felt a twinge of regret; he was no more than thirteen years old. She bore him into her room and into the linen closet; propping him against the wall, she tied his arms and legs firmly and locked the closet behind him. Feeling incredible weary, she woke Neal to keep watch and fell into bed without taking off the belts that hid daggers beneath her tunic.

That was not the last attack. Twice more that week there was some kind of attempt in the early morning, though never again when Kel was on duty. Sir Yaxley and Lord Wyldon disappeared for hours at a time every day in the evening and around the lunch hour to talk with the boy, who had been moved permanently into the bigger closet in Wyldon's room. Kel knew from her father's increasingly lined face and Wyldon's hard mouth that the interrogations were not going well.

"He holds up surprisingly well for one so young," her old training master confided to her in low whispers as they mock-sparred with the glaives during one morning's warm-up session; Neal stood guard in case of eavesdroppers. "We can hardly get a word out of him; if he doesn't cooperate, we may need to use some more persuasive methods."

Kel ripped his weapon out of his hands with a deft twist and danced back to avoid the unruly blade. "He's a boy, Cavall," she snapped. Wyldon's eyes darkened, but his face remained carefully neutral.

"This is a serious business, _Mindelan_," he retorted. "He was in on a secret we need to know for the safety of your parents, among others, and if he refuses to redeem himself by telling us what we need to know, he will have to pay the consequences for his actions."

Kel felt like stamping her foot, but refrained. "In a couple years and in the wrong hands, Tobe could have been that boy," she hissed. "Tell me, would you have the gall to physically and mentally harm _him_ for the sake of knowledge?"

"What else can we do?" Wyldon shot back, finally losing his temper. "I am here _under orders_ to do everything in my power to protect the ambassadors! And what if I should fail? If there are any more attacks, we _will_ have to leave, risking Carthak's enmity, which is _not_ something we are equipped to handle at present! We need to get to the heart of the matter, and the only way is through this boy." He stopped and drew his hands over his face. "I have no choice, Keladry. Please see this."

"Let me talk to him," said Kel after a brief moment of silence. "Tonight, after dinner. If I can get him to divulge whatever information he may have, we let him go free-"

"Out of the question."

"We take him on as a servant then!" She struggled to reign in her temper and speak rationally. "Something. Anything. We can't just kill him!"

"I wasn't suggesting that," Wyldon soothed. "We are due for another report in a few weeks. He can go to Tortall then and serve someone - Sir Myles perhaps - as a runner and messenger boy." He raised an eyebrow at her incredulous expression. "You see? I can compromise, too."

Kel could only relinquish the victory to him as gracefully as possible.

* * *

"I am going to have a chat with the Emperor while you do your business," Baron Piers informed his daughter later that afternoon. It was a little before the evening meal, and Kel had been preparing her face when her father requested a brief audience. Now she set aside her brushes and combs and turned on the stool to face him.

"About Jerreth?" she asked, referring to the boy they had captured.

He nodded. "I need to see if Kaddar can do anything about it. I know he himself is not behind it," Piers continued, raising a hand as Kel opened her mouth to protest, "because any fool could see that he is very intent on forging an alliance with Tortall. That is the only reason I am taking this risk," he admitted.

"Do you think he will offer assistance in the way of law and justice?" she ventured.

"If not that, at least a quiet investigation and some real guards. Not that you aren't doing a fine job, my dear," he backtracked with a sudden smile. "But you all need your rest for the long days, and three hours a night on the alert is very stressing." He patted her half-done hair gently. "Are you ready for tonight?"

His daughter gave him a shrewd look. "I am not going to tell you _anything_, father," she informed him tartly. "I will divulge all when you return from your 'little chat'." Her father gave a full-out chuckle at this, something she had not heard from him in weeks.

"Very well, daughter. I will see you across the table at dinner then, perhaps. Wish me luck with his Royal Imperiousness!"

"Good luck father," Kel said obediently, meaning every word as he kissed her cheek and left the room.

* * *

Kel was quick to finish her meal, and she soon left the dining hall with a covered platter of food in her hands. She reached the Tortallan Suite in less than ten minutes, and entered to find a rather wretched-looking Seaver standing guard. He eyed the plate hungrily.

"Is that for me?"

"No, Seaver, sorry!" she laughed, holding it away from his questing grasp. "It's for the prisoner. I'm here to relieve you."

"Are you sure?" he asked, still eyeing the platter. "Wyldon told me not to leave you…"

Kel scowled. "Just because I don't _act_ like a knight doesn't mean I'm _not_ one. I can take care of myself." She jerked her head towards the door. "Go eat, and come back when you're done if you must. But I'm not to be disturbed, okay?"

"Okay, Kel. Thanks!" he threw over his shoulder as he all but bounded out the door. She realized as he left that she felt a little strange talking to him after Neal had confessed his feelings, but she hadn't noticed it until after. Relieved that sexual preference had no lasting effects on her friendships, she locked the main door soundly behind her and made a beeline for the temporary cell in which their young assassin was being held.

Jerreth knelt on the floor of Wyldon's unused parlor, tearing into a liberally spiced deer haunch with his teeth. Kel sat opposite him, playing absentmindedly with the stem of her wineglass as she looked him over. Her original placing of him was incorrect, she decided - he was more like fourteen or fifteen, though the softness of his face and slight frame belied his age. His hair was a straw-colored gold that hung pin-straight to his earlobes, but his skin was dark enough to be half-Carthaki at least. His dark hooded eyes, hidden from her in his frenzied eating, were deep-set and solemn, though retaining a spark of childhood still.

After consuming the entire haunch and half a loaf of bread with goats milk to wash it down, he suddenly became polite. He patted his mouth with slender hands and sat up straight, looking across the platter at her as though the messy silver was not there.

"Now they send a beautiful woman to seduce me into talking," he said flatly, his voice an uncanny mix of farmyard boy and city-bred noble. Kel refused to be goaded.

"My name is Keladry," she told him straight out without blinking.

"They didn't tell me they had a courtesan in their menagerie," he replied in the same manner.

She tried very hard not to slap him for impertinence. "Would you like my full title?"

"Princess Keladry of Conté I suppose."

Kel almost laughed at the blandness in his voice, but carefully kept her face Yamani-smooth. "No. I am Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, Protector of the Small - the second Lady Knight in Tortall for over a hundred years."

Respect flashed briefly in his face before he masked it somewhat clumsily. "Women should not try to be as men."

"You try to be as a Carthaki, but you do not succeed," Kel said, ignoring his attempted criticism. "You are as much a Tortallan as I, I think."

"My mother was a luarin slave of the Copper Isles," he returned. "I know not her heritage."

"Your father was raka?"

"No. I never knew him."

Kel nodded, but said nothing.

"So you are the Lady Ilane's daughter? You seem much alike."

"Really?" Kel asked, flattered enough that she forgot her job.

He nodded, perfectly serious. "Yes. She came in sometimes, after Cavall and the Minchi left."

Kel made no move to indicate her surprise that Yaxley and Wyldon had revealed their names. "Have my companions been kind to you?"

"It is hard to be kind to a prisoner," Jerreth informed her. "Even I realize that."

"You are a very mature fourteen-year-old," Kel replied, equally informative.

"Fifteen, actually."

"Mature for a fifteen-year-old, then," she conceded. "But not so intelligent."

He bristled, right on cue. "I have a duty to my - lord, and I will uphold that duty with all the honor I possess," he fired out mechanically. "It is an honor to… die… for my king…"

"Your king? I hope you don't mean Kaddar. My father may come back to our rooms in a small snuffbox."

"No, not the Emperor, though I would serve him if…"

Kel pulled an Ilane, raising her eyebrow to her hairline. Without her having to say a word, the boy bowed his head in submission.

"If my lord would free me of my bonds and let me serve whom I would."

"Who is this tyrant that you serve?" Kel asked gently. "Do not fear - no ears can hear us from without."

Wordlessly Jerreth held out his arm. On the underside of his wrist was written _AXVI_; block letters in dark blue ink. "AX are the initials of my lord. The numeral six is my precedence among the boys who serve him."

"Do you have a rank?" Kel asked.

"I am called lieutenant-major; all of us are lieutenants, you see."

"Clearly this is a large enterprise," she mused, peering closer at the letters. "How far does this lord of yours reach his hand?"

In a flash, she had his arm captive as he attempted to swing his fist at her. Her eyes blazed dangerously. "Make another false move, and I will not hesitate to impair you, boy. Do I make myself clear?"

He nodded mulishly.

"Now you will tell me everything I need to know before your last chance is gone and they put you under torture! My father goes to the Emperor tonight, and if it is as you say, you will be on the rack in a trice. Believe me, death is better than what they can make for you down in the dungeons."

"The one I serve is nameless," Jerreth rattled out. "We only refer to him as 'my lord'. His underground empire is vast, making profit on offering escaped slaves from every country a job; usually that job is illegal. When my mother escaped from the Copper Isles many years ago she gave me over to work for him - she was poor, and had no other choice. It is thanks to her that I have lived this long."

"Where is your lord's base?"

"I do not know. I have never seen him. He assigns masters to us, ones who know all there is to know about our work, and they teach us. Later they become our partners, and orders come through them from him to us; it is the greatest honor to be chosen for the most dangerous assignments."

"Who does he want dead and why?"

"Our orders were to kill the Baron and his wife, and then if no one was the wiser, to try and take captive the ones who are called haMinch and Duke Gareth - they are close to the throne of Tortall. We are not given the whys of assignments, Lady Knight."

Kel sighed. "Thank you. That will be all for now. I'm sorry you do not trust me; since that is the case, I will have to lock you up again."

This prompted a questioning look, but she refused to answer. Instead she tied him securely and replaced him in his makeshift cell before locking Wyldon's doors and waiting in the common room for her companions to return from dinner.

* * *

"Kaddar knows nothing of the attempt, but he was shocked and outraged when I informed him," Piers announced to the group later that night after Kel had related the information she had received. "He has organized a quiet investigation - Owen, I will send you to his chambers tonight with a message describing Kel's discoveries. It is imperative that you deliver it unread or unseen by anyone else! Not even the guards," he cautioned. The tow-headed knight nodded gravely in understanding.

"In a couple of weeks we must send our third report," the Baron went on. "Besides Neal who is going to see Yuki, is there anyone who _needs_ to go?"

"I must go again, I fear," Wyldon spoke up. "I received a coded message by pigeon the other day, directly from the king; I am needed at court presently to advise him."

Piers nodded. "Very well. As for one other, Daine, Owen, Seaver, and Ilane are out. Who would _like_ to go?"

"I think Kel should go," Esmond spoke up to everyone's surprise. "She hasn't gone yet, and we've sent one woman every time - no offense, Kel," he added with an apologetic grin for her. "I just mean that it may look suspicious if we don't send another female to court when we've done so twice in a row already."

"Lucky," Merric sulked. "She gets to go over Midwinter."

Kel beamed at the prospect. "If you insist."

Piers nodded. "It's decided then. December eighth, Wyldon, Kel, and Neal will go to Tortall. The Duke and I will write you a Report to give to the king before you leave."


	10. Runt of the Litter

**CHAPTER NINE**

**Runt of the Litter**

_December-January, 460-461_

_Carthak and Tortall_

Two weeks before Kel was to leave on Report, a very extraordinary thing happened: Baron Piers and the Imperial Speaker agreed on something. They were past the point of settling the backstage issues, and now the second act could begin. Princess Kalasin of Conté would be returning with the Report to Carthak.

"And meanwhile," Piers ended his speech that evening, "the Emperor will do everything in his power to see that this 'underground rebellion' is obliterated."

* * *

As soon as Carthak was out of sight, Kel changed into breeches and tunic before going topside of the Tortallan ship that was bearing them home. The wind was cool, but without the severe bite of northern winters, and she shrugged off the chill without effort.

As she breathed in the salty air, a lanky green blur flew past her and leaped up onto the rigging to hang off the ship facing northward. Kel shaded her eyes against the sun and looked up at him.

"Hello Neal. Enjoying the freedom to be yourself?"

"Very much, Lady Knight," her friend replied, somehow bowing from the waist. "You sure that fellow Jerreth won't suddenly fling himself off and swim to shore to spill all our secrets to his milord?"

"Quite certain," Kel answered dryly. "Even if he did, he'd probably drown halfway there. Can _you_ see the shore?"

"Um… if I pretend I have the sight… Ow! Don't hit me, Kel, it's not nice."

"I never claimed to be 'nice', did I?"

"No, and you've certainly proved it - OW! Stoppit, you!"

"Speaking of 'the prisoner', where is he?" Kel asked, leaving off torment for a while.

"Dunno," he shrugged, "in the hold somewhere, being eaten alive by rats or some such… oh, there his is. Ship's boy now."

Squinting against the brightness of the day, Kel made out Jerreth's slender silhouette running from quarterdeck to first mate, giving the captain's orders to the be relayed in the man's booming voice. "Good. At least he's not twiddling his thumbs, apt to get up to some kind of trouble."

"Do you suppose Yuki's been alright without me?" Neal asked, changing the subject abruptly.

"I… suppose," Kel answered hesitantly. "She didn't say anything to negate that fact in her last letter."

"I've been worried for her," he admitted, buoyancy suddenly gone. "You didn't… you know, say anything to her?"

"Of course not," Kel said indignantly. "That's between you and her. There _is _a line, you know, that a friend can never cross. Why so nervous all of a sudden?"

"I dunno." He shrugged, cheerful again. "Enjoy this while you can, though. Just to warn you."

"Enjoy what?" Kel asked suspiciously.

"You know. Wearing a man's clothes. Cause when we get to Tortall, there's going to be ball after ball after -"

"I'll hide with Raoul in the weaponry or something," Kel dismissed him.

"And endure his smooching with Buri? Yuck! I don't think so," Neal predicted with relish. "With your luck Alanna will be dragging you all over creation for gowns and such just so she can spend 'quality time' with another female knight."

"Well, I certainly don't envy _you_," she returned smugly. "_You'll _be at Yuki's side the whole time, dealing with morning sickness, cramps, mood swings, cravings…"

Neal's response was a wail akin to that of a dying warthog.

* * *

Unfortunately, her friend's predictions came true. Alanna, unwilling to spend hours with the queen and her ladies getting fitted, stole Kel and made her go with her to Lalasa's dress shop. Although it was packed to the gills with ladies coming to place orders, get fittings, and purchase cloth, Lalasa somehow found time to get Kel and Alanna into an empty fitting room and take both their measurements while an assistant jotted down notes and numbers as the brisk young woman fired them out. Moments later, the two lady knights found themselves standing in the street somewhat bewildered at what had happened.

In the end, however, Kel spent most of her time with Kalasin, preparing to become her primary guard while in Carthak. However, spending time with the older girl was not as tedious as she had feared. In fact, it was rather exciting. In between excursions into the forest on horseback (a guard following behind at exactly twenty paces), Kel found herself roped into training master duty, as Buri was too occupied with her eight-month-pregnant self and had been for some time.

During her free time, Kel made the rounds, checking up on Neal (who was constantly at Yukimi's side) and Raoul (who avoided his snarling wife as best he could). This consisted of much time in the practice courts, toning up with Raoul in all manner of combat for the Midwinter Games. It was there that Wyldon found her, locked in a rather precarious position with Raoul, whose superior body mass was beginning to win out on her sword and arms.

"Keladry! Can you come here a moment?"

Kel blinked at Raoul, a drop of sweat rolling down her temple. The giant man nodded and stepped back with a sigh, wiping his own forehead with the back of his hand. "I swear, a few more seconds and you might have had me."

"I was about to cry quits myself," Kel admitted as she sheathed her sword. "What do you suppose Wyldon wants me for?"

Raoul snorted. "I know that look on his face. One of his bitches is probably birthing." He raised his hands defensively. "Don't yell at me! That's what you call them, I swear. Go ask Wyldon."

"Fine, I will," Kel retorted, waving goodbye and strolling over to where Wyldon was leaning against the rail that separated the court from the empty ring of spectators' seats.

"Female dogs are technically called bitches, Raoul has recently informed me," Kel announced. As she drew closer, she noticed a thrum of excitement buried under the relaxed lines of his body, and that he was holding onto rational thought by a very slim thread indeed.

"That is true," he agreed, throwing a very un-benign glance over her shoulder to where Raoul leaned on his sword, chortling. "It seems he knows me to well. Do you mind coming to see the newest additions to the palace?"

"Not at all," Kel agreed, following him out of the ring and to the kennels. "I didn't know you kept your dogs in Corus."

"Usually I don't. Last time I was in Tortall, I moved them here, since there was no one I trusted at Cavall to take care of them."

This was said with a flat tone of voice, and Kel instantly wished she hadn't said anything. Trying to smooth over the rough moment in their conversation she asked, "How many pups?"

"There were eight when I left, and she was doing fine - at this point eight might be all or there might be more. This is her third litter, and they produce less as they get older. Last time she only had seven."

"Only?" She made a face. "Seems like an awful lot to me."

Wyldon chuckled. "It probably seems like a lot to her, too. But there were eleven in her first litter."

As they entered the kennels, Kel instantly noticed the silence. She gave her guide a questioning look.

"Since Daine's arrival here, the dogs have become especially intelligent," he murmured. "They are silent out of respect for the new lives that are coming into the world today."

This simple statement took Kel's breath away, and she was thankful when he opened a fairly low gateway and led her gently by the elbow into the room. Inside, a female dog – Kel still couldn't call her a bitch – lay on her side, seemingly tuckered out. Her long silken hair was the color of ripe wheat, her tail a full plume of soft gold as it thumped the floor upon Wyldon's arrival. Her amber eyes gazed up at him in complete adoration, and he knelt at her head to stroke her floppy ears with his callused hand.

"Shut the door," he whispered, not taking his eyes off the new mother. Kel obeyed, and when she turned she focused on the pups instead. They were tiny little things, their short hair various shades of gold. Nine were lined up in a wiggling, whimpering row at their mother's teats; Kel's face broke into an instinctive smile at the sight. Wyldon examined the mother first, and then each pup after her, his face both pleased and proud as he felt their wriggling little bodies clamoring for food.

As she watched the methodical procedure, Kel caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. Further away from the rest of its family, struggling to move towards the feast that awaited it, was a pale blond puppy. Its ears and eyes were squinched tightly shut like its fellows, but something about the way it moved its mouth in an imitation of suckling and how its tiny legs stirred anxiously on the floor told Kel it wasn't healthy.

Finally moving farther into the room, she knelt and picked the laboring thing up into her arms, only to be stopped by a hand on her arm.

"There was bound to be one in a litter this big," Wyldon said gently. "There were two in her first."

Kel shrank away from his possessive touch on the animal she held. "What do you mean?"

"Look at it, Keladry. It's small; see its nose? There's no pigment in its skin. Its legs aren't strong enough to move it to his mother's side. It's a runt, Kel."

"So you're going to kill it?" she nearly shrieked. A russet male canine in a pen across the hall growled deep in his chest at the noise that disturbed his wife and their young.

"It is incapable of surviving," Wyldon tried to explain, rumpling his thinning hair in agitation. "Even the parents know that there maybe one or more who will not live."

She gazed helplessly at the female; she blinked serenely as though acknowledging and agreeing with her master's words. Kel looked down at the pale creature panting and shivering in her arms and felt tears come to her eyes. "I will buy him from you."

There might have been a vague whisper of _"female sentimentality"_ from Wyldon's direction, but she ignored it. In any case, his next words redeemed him beyond measure. "Dear girl, if you are that insistent, you may have it without cost," he told her. "I suggest you ask the mother to wean it before it dies, though. Then you can see about feeding it watered-down goats milk or some such."

Had she not been holding the puppy, Kel was sure she would have embraced him. As it was, she kissed his weathered cheek in thanks and leaned down to whisper to the dog. She was so intent on the one-sided bargain that she missed the way Wyldon raised his hand to touch the spot where her lips had been, and the bewilderment in his eyes as he watched her lovingly care for the disabled puppy.

* * *

The Midwinter Games were something that every knight and squire in Corus participated in. Kel had missed it three years in a row as Raoul's squire, as they had conveniently been away. Now, as she sat in the knight's dining hall listening to Alanna explain with relish the contests that they would be competing, she wished she hadn't been _quite_ so busy. At least then she would have an idea of what she would be doing. Everything the older knight described sounded like a crazy racecourse of jousting, running, wrestling, riding, sparring, and other feats of strength and prowess rolled into one.

"You need some practice from the looks of you," the redhead added as she tore her small loaf in two and slathered it with butter and honey. "All that court life has made you whiter than a lily and just as feeble."

_That_ stung Kel's pride. "That's as may be, Lady Knight, but I can still grip a lance better than most!"

The petite woman grinned recklessly. "Oh yes? Better than Lord Wyldon?"

"I haven't managed to best him yet," Kel admitted, glancing down the table to where her old training master sat talking dogs with Padraig haMinch. "But not for lack of trying."

Alanna leaned back on her bench, sizing up Keladry and Lord Wyldon by turns. "In that case, _Lady Knight_, I would like to make you a bet. I understand your little jaunt in Carthak is worth a pretty penny."

Kel's eyes narrowed. "Just because your King's Champion doesn't give you the right to nose into my monetary affairs. What are you getting at?"

The copper-haired woman could barely contain her wicked glee. "In the spirit of Midwinter, let us keep the stakes high. I will bet you one purse of gold and two purses of silver that you can't unseat Lord Wyldon at the jousting tournament in three days."

Kel paused. It had been a while since she'd jousted with anything more solid than a quintain dummy. Hoshi wasn't built for it, and jousting wasn't a Carthaki sport. However, since her training with Raoul, she was feeling more her old, muscled self. Besides that, the promise of winning one over on the older woman was hard to resist.

Spitting on her hand and holding it out for Alanna to shake, Kel gave her response.

"It would be my pleasure."

* * *

"You don't know what you've signed yourself on to," Raoul said later that evening as they mounted their warhorses and prepared their practice lances in preparation for the tournament – and Kel's bet. "Well, maybe you do. You've certainly jousted him before."

"He's had as little time to practice as I have," Kel replied, sounding more confident than she felt. Her old knight-master snorted.

"Jousting isn't something you forget too quickly. Now shall we stand here and jaw all night, or do you want to practice?"

In answer, Kel lined up Peachblossom – who was now being kept in the Palace Stables – and readied her stance. Raoul trotted to the other side of the ring and saluted. "Best of luck, Lady Knight!"

Kel didn't even have to tell Peachblossom to charge. Within the space of two breaths, Drum and Peachblossom surged forward. The speed and power of her gelding took Kel's breath away, and she squeezed her knees tightly, feeling the perfect balance of her body. The rolling motion of the horse, the clench and release of her muscles as she lowered the lace – all felt perfectly aligned. She grinned inwardly as the two horses thundered closer. _I'm home._

They came together in an explosion of wood. Kel lurched to one side, but stayed in the saddle, feeling the bones of her hand ache with the jarring of the splintering lance. Raoul winced as they rode past one another, massaging his padded abdomen.

"Nearly popped me out, there," he called, grabbing another lance from the page that was attending them. "Let's have another go and see if you can't finish the job, eh?"

For all his advice, Kel knew that Raoul wasn't going to make it easy for her. She accepted her own lance, patting the dancing Peachblossom on the neck.

"Easy, boy. Let's take him."

This time Kel knew everything was perfect. Her breath surged with the horse, and unbeknownst to her, a reckless grin filled her eyes as they charged. Her lance caught him square on his shield, and she popped him up and over Drum's churning gray hindquarters to land in the dust.

The rush of victory overtook her, but only for a moment. Bringing Peachblossom back around, she slid to the ground and bent over her old knight-master.

"Sir? Raoul? Are you okay?" she asked, a little bit concerned. He had hit the dirt hard.

Raoul groaned, sitting up slowly and massaging his back. "This tourney stuff is starting to catch up with me," he wheezed. "Help me up Kel, that's enough for today."

Kel obeyed silently, startled. Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak rarely showed any sign of weakness. But the look on his face told her she'd better keep her mouth shut, so she took hold of Drum and Peachblossom and led them away, glancing covertly over her shoulder to watch him limp to the men's baths.

"I hope I didn't hit him too hard," she remarked to the horses, chewing her bottom lip. Drum grunted, nosing her hip. She flicked his velvety muzzle and clucked her tongue. "No apples for you m'laddo, until I get you wiped down. Peachblossom! Stop that, of course you're first. You're my horse, aren't you?"

Upon reaching the stable, she fastened Drum's reins to a hitch and led her own horse well out of the way to untack and groom him. She was halfway through the task when she realized Drum was also being taken care of. She peeped over Peachblossom's mane, and then ducked back down again quickly. It was Lord Wyldon.

Kel's brow furrowed slightly as she bent down to pick her gelding's enormous hooves, wondering what he was doing there. Or more specifically, what he was doing grooming Raoul's warhorse. But then Peachblossom shifted his weight lazily, planting nearly all his weight on her toe, and all thoughts fled her mind.

"_Shite!_ Move _off_, you bloody stupid horse!" Kel shouted, leaning with all her might against the reddish-brown haunch. Her destrier eyed her without moving. Gritting her teeth against the pain – she could feel the bones in her foot moving ominously – Kel tried to push harder. For a moment she was certain he was going to break her foot entirely.

Then Wyldon had the reins, and was tugging the enormous destrier in the opposite direction. Peachblossom's mouth, though somewhat hardened, responded to the pressure, and he removed his hoof as Wyldon forced him to dance to one side.

"That was odd," the older knight remarked, backing Peachblossom down the corridor a short distance. "Usually he's very well-behaved."

Kel sagged against the nearest stall door, lifting her pulverized foot off the floor as she chuckled weakly. "I wouldn't say 'very,' milord. More like 'grudgingly.'"

Once the errant Peachblossom was affixed to the wall again, Lord Wyldon grabbed her arms and helped her to limp to a nearby bale of hay. "Sit," he ordered. "I'll be back with a healer."

Kel leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the waves of pain that radiated up her leg. Biting her tongue, she set her mind to complicated arithmetic. She had just solved 48π squared over e when Lord Wyldon returned, a female healer in tow.

"Let me have a look," she said, kneeling in front of her. The healer took the injured foot gently between her hands, and Kel promptly fainted.


	11. Two Purses of Silver

**Chapter Ten**

**Two Purses of Silver**

Kel woke slowly, still groggy from the healing. As her mind cleared, reminding her of the reason she was flat out in bed instead of eating supper, she sensed that she was not in her own chambers. She let her eyes open slowly, taking a mental inventory of her body. The white-washed ceiling was stained a faint rose from the setting sun outside the window; she was on the west side of the palace. Given the past few hours, she realized she must be in the healing ward.

Kel flexed her toes experimentally. Aside from a little stiffness, her injured foot felt perfectly normal.

"Thank the Goddess for healers," she muttered to herself, slowly sitting upright. She hadn't spent a lot of time in the healing ward, since she was rarely sick. Still, she recognized the space. It was sparse and clean, hardly decorated, the walls lined only with necessities. A few healers walked up and down the rows of beds, tending to their patients. Aside from a handful of people suffering from common winter chills and ailments, the ward was almost empty. Then she caught sight of the person in the next bed, and her eyes popped open.

"My Lord Raoul! Why are _you_ here?"

The enormous knight glared balefully at her over the white linen sheets. "Don't talk to me, Miss Oh-no-my-horse-stepped-on-my-toesies. My spine is ruined because of you!"

A female healer – the same one who had tended Kel – came over at the sound of their voices. "Sir Raoul, you really must be still," she chided him, amusing Kel greatly by tucking the blankets more firmly around his chin. "I've told you a hundred times, this spell takes time to work! And stop being so dramatic. I'm sure you'll live to see tomorrow at least."

The knight scowled even more darkly at the woman fussing over him, but she ignored him with the skill of one who has had years of practice. Instead she left him to see to Keladry, patting her graying hair back from her face.

"Good evening, Lady Knight," she said, green eyes twinkling. "My name is Meryl. Feeling better, are we?"

Kel mumbled an affirmative, embarrassed that she had passed out.

Meryl gave her an update as she passed her hands over Kel's body in a quick check-up. "Not to worry, your foot will be right as rain in no time. Duke Baird would prefer that you stay here until tomorrow, just to be safe. Feet can be tricky to heal – so many bones."

As the older woman spoke, Kel felt an icy sensation sink into her injured foot, relieving the slight ache. She sighed in relief.

"Thank you, Meryl," she said, feeling absurdly shy. The woman patted her knee gently, almost as one would a child.

"You are very welcome, child. It was an honor."

When the healer had left, Raoul cleared his throat, attracting Kel's attention.

"I'm sorry for snapping, Kel," he said gruffly. "I really should be grateful that you're getting me out of an evening's party planning."

"It's okay, my lord," she said, grinning despite her contrite tone. "I really didn't mean to hit you that hard."

Raoul snorted, closing his eyes. "It's jousting, miss. You're _supposed_ to hit hard. Just try not to kill Wyldon in a few days. He's frailer than I am, though he hides it well."

Kel laid back on her pillow, savoring the warmth of the sheets. Then, "Raoul?"

"Mm?"

"Why does Meryl's name seem so familiar?"

Raoul chuckled without opening his eyes. "Because she's Lady Meryl of Queenscove, that's why. The second most powerful healer in the realm."

_Those green eyes are Neal's_, Kel thought to herself. Then, _I just called Duke Baird's sister by her first name!_ Disgruntled, she closed her eyes and tried to forget the gaffe. How was she to know? Lady Meryl had made no effort to divulge her title. The worry left completely when a healer-apprentice entered with a cart. From the delicious scents that were wafting from it, it was clear that dinner would soon be served, and Kel was starved after the healing.

* * *

Her friends came to visit her that night, forming a loose ring around her bed and that of Lord Raoul's. He was feeling better now, and that, combined supper, had put him in a good humor. Keeping their voices low so they wouldn't disturb the other patients, they laughed and joked with the two downed knights, relaying the latest court gossip and the progression of the plans for the Midwinter festivities.

"It's strange, isn't it, that we won't be the ones serving anymore," Neal said from where he was sprawled on the end of Kel's bed. "No more drudgery for us hero knights!"

Kel kicked him with her uninjured foot. "If by hero you mean sloth. Yuki tells me you've been sleeping a lot."

"It's the cold," Neal complained. "I'm not used to it."

"Spoiled rotten by Carthak," Buri noted, a faint smile lingering on her cross features. Heavy with child, her irritation at not being able to participate in the Midwinter Games was obvious.

Yukimi, still slim in her kimono layers, smoothed her husband's forehead with a tender touch. "He doesn't sleep _all_ the time," she admonished the others. "Most of the time he's with me."

"Keeping warm in other ways," Raoul snickered.

Shinko, standing close to Prince Roald, blushed; but Yuki was made of sterner stuff. "And what of it?" she sniffed, a prim little miss in the face of Raoul's crude humor. "I suppose Buri became with child by pure chance?

The small gathering chuckled at Raoul's disgruntled expression.

"Nowadays I almost believe that," Buri sighed, pulling a mournful expression.

Neal tsked at the older knight, who was rapidly growing red in the face. "For shame, my lord! Back in Corus after so long afield, and you can't even spare the decency to warm your wife's bed!"

Alanna cackled, taking pleasure in her friend's discomfort. "If you need pointers on how to get on with a pregnant woman, just ask George," she joshed him. "We went through all three pregnancies without losing a drop of passion, all nine months!"

Forgetting Lady Meryl's strict instructions, Raoul hurled his pillow at the violet-eyed knight, catching her square in the mouth. "That's it! And I don't need any bloody pointers! Come here, Buri."

There were gasps and stifled laughter as Raoul kissed his wife thoroughly, proving that he did indeed know "how to get on with a pregnant woman."

* * *

The day the Midwinter festivities – and the Games – began, Kel was up and about as usual. After glaive practice in the morning with Yuki, Shinko, and a few other court ladies who had picked up the weapon, she went to the Royal Kennels to visit the puppy she had named Rairn. Although far smaller than his brothers and sisters, he was growing steadily, and she made sure to visit him at least once a day. His mother, Viaga, knew her on sight, and made no protest as Kel entered the cage.

The other ten puppies were slumbering in a multihued pile of soft fawn-gold, their eyes and ears still closed tightly. Rairn, a dark russet color, was taking his turn to feed while he had a chance. Kel sat with her back against the low gate, waiting respectfully until mother and son were finished.

Although she had been there to witness the feeding several times before, Kel couldn't shake the feeling of reverence that filled her every time. The mother lay on her stomach, slouched to one side to allow the runt of the litter access to one line of plump teats. She was so patient, Kel realized, taking care of this one that shouldn't have been able to survive. Viaga looked up at her with liquid amber eyes, and she seemed to smile in understanding: acknowledging the extra effort, but conveying her peace with the situation.

It wasn't too long before Rairn finished his meal and left the teat. Viaga stood, grunting, and sniffed her stunted son, licking him once or twice before settling down to nap against one wall. Rairn yawned, his tiny pink tongue curling and the little muzzle wrinkling with exertion. Kel, unable to stand his adorableness, picked him up carefully. Although he was but a few days old, Rairn's puppy nose knew her scent, and wriggled eagerly in his grip.

"Easy, boy!" she murmured, knowing he could feel the vibrations of her voice even if he couldn't hear them quite yet. "You're going to make me drop you."

Returning to her spot, she sat and cradled the puppy in her lap, laughing at his inquisitive exploration of her legs and feet. But soon he tired of tumbling everywhere, and he fell asleep half-draped over her knee, his back end almost slipping off her thigh.

After returning Rairn to the cozy pile of puppies, Kel left the kennels and stopped by Duke Baird's office for her final checkup before the Games. He was adamant that she be perfectly sound before participating, and any form of wrestling, he said, was out of the question. But Kel was grateful that she could compete at all, and did not complain when he proclaimed her fit for action.

Keladry then went to join her friends for breakfast. They ate in Raoul's and Buriram's rooms in keeping with past years, Neal and Roald mock-sparring with fists, Alanna and Buri getting into debates about the best way to raise children with two knights for parents, Kel discussing Own goings-on with Raoul, and Yuki and Shinko gossiping about the Midwinter parties planned for the next week.

Others soon joined them, including Sir Gary the Younger, Cleon, Baron George in search of his wife, Lord Wyldon, and several men from Third Company. Together they made quite a merry party. Kel felt slightly awkward around Cleon at first, but then he introduced her to the page serving the party, and she forgot her trepidation.

"Kel," the red-haired knight beckoned, "I'd like to introduce you Fianola of Sinthya. I believe you know her?"

Kel recognized the other girl right away. "I certainly do!" she exclaimed, taking the younger girl's hand in excitement. "I'm so thrilled to find you a page." Dressed in the palace colors, Fianola still had her lovely ash-brown hair, though it was tied back in a snug braid. She had also thickened up somewhat; but it was clear that her willowy frame would never bulk up as much as Keladry's.

Fianola bowed, hard pressed to keep from grinning outright. "Milady, I am glad to meet you again," she answered in a husky voice.

"You've been a page two years, correct?" Kel asked, eager to find out all she could about the next lady knight in the making. "How are things going?"

"Very well, milady," Fianola replied, eyes alight. "I am two years older than most of my year-mates, but it gives me an advantage of height for now."

"Use it all you can," Kel counseled. "Use your beauty, too," she added, unflinching although Fianola bowed her head, embarrassed. "Don't flaunt it, but remember – men have a weakness for a pretty face. Unfortunately I don't have one, but if you can back up your shield with the skills of a knight, you will have an advantage over many male knights because they won't expect you to be able to throw them."

"I thank you for the advice, milady," Fianola said. Her next words were slightly stammered. "I beg your pardon, milady, but if you are not previously engaged… I am competing in archery and swordplay in the page ring tomorrow…"

Kel grinned. "I would be honored to attend, lady page. If I'm not killed in the jousting today."

Fianola's eyes widened. "You are jousting today? Oh, please say I can come watch!"

"Of course you may," Kel said stoutly. "I will speak to Lord haMinch myself. It will be just like old times, hm?" Kel remembered all too well waking up to Fianola and her two companions after jousting with Wyldon in the Progress. Hopefully she wouldn't end up in the same state this time.

Fianola bowed again, beaming. "Indeed milady. How could I forget?"

The female page then left to procure more punch, and Kel realized that Cleon had drifted away. Silently thankful that she wouldn't have to make polite conversation, she made her way to where Wyldon and Raoul were discussing the rise of female pages in the Palace. Aside from Fianola there were two: Aloisia of Milis Forge, and Yvenne of Brightleigh. Kel couldn't help but interrupt.

"Yvenne, you said her name was? I remember her."

Wyldon's expression was caught between sourness and amusement. "She met you on the Progress, I believe. She is my niece – the daughter of my younger sister, Elasabenne of Brightleigh."

Startled, a laugh escaped Kel before she could stop it. "Forgive me, milord," she said, attempting contriteness. "I just find it ironic how…"

"How I was so adamant that women should not become knights, and now my own niece is a page – yes, I know," Wyldon finished with a wry twist of his mouth. "I'll have you know, Lady Knight, that opinions can change."

"And old dogs can learn new tricks," Raoul murmured, eyes alight with mischief.

* * *

Kel felt oddly calm in the minutes before the joust. She asked Raoul to help her with her armor for old times' sake, and the ritual soothed her frazzled nerves. She hadn't worn full armor in a long time, but it felt good. The weight forced her to concentrate on each movement instead of fretting about the match to come.

As she rode out into the ring, she was surprised to see the stands packed to their edges, even though swordplay and the footrace were also going on at the same time. She was also surprised to see the royal family in attendance, but then she caught a glimpse of Fianola with the other girl pages, and her attention was diverted. Aloisia of Milis Forge she did not know – she was tall and broad-shouldered, with a lively face and wildly curling red hair – but Yvenne of Brightleigh she recognized immediately. The girl's blonde hair was cut very short around her head, shorter than either of her companions, and her expression was intense concentration on the jousting ring. She had obviously matured a lot in the past two years.

Forcing herself back to the present, she focused her mind, shifting her weight in the saddle to find the perfect balance. Peachblossom felt perfectly steady beneath her, standing in the cool air of the indoor jousting ring without so much as a flinch. The herald trotted up, but she barely listened to him rattle off the rules. She knew them as well as he did. Besides, she wasn't concerned with breaking lances and suchlike. The single truth burning in her mind was that if she wanted to win Alanna's bet, she was going to have to unseat Lord Wyldon.

Handing over the lance, the herald drew his horse away and removed himself to the front of the stands where King Jonathan and Queen Thayet were seated. Out of the corner of her eye, Kel noted that Alanna was sitting with the monarchs, and watched as she and Princess Kalasin leaned forward for a better view.

"What do you think?" she murmured to Peachblossom. "Can we take him?"

The destrier tossed his enormous head and snorted as if to say, "Leave it to me." His hindquarters danced briefly to help her get better situated, and then he was still.

Time froze.

The other herald dropped the flag and darted out of the way. Wyldon, also in full armor at the end of the field, was all Kel saw as Peachblossom surged forward, one solid ton of muscle and bone built for battle. A brief thrill passed through her as she sat forward slightly, keeping her shield high. Her balance was perfect. Nothing could shake her now.

They came together with a resounding crash. His lance hit her shield squarely while hers bounced off the rim, but she angled her body so that the point of his weapon slid by instead of popping her out. Both lances survived the impact, but Kel's noted a crack in hers as she cantered back around. She breathed in experimentally. _Not bad_, she said to herself, shaking out her numbed hand.

A fresh lance and a quick roll of her shoulders to settle herself, and Kel was ready to go again. _You have two more chances to throw him. Don't rush_, her mind counseled.

Peachblossom was breathing like a bellows already, nose flaring and flanks heaving as he sucked in great draughts of air. But Kel wasn't concerned; he was practically dancing on his toes with readiness, a cock-sure foal in a warhorse's body.

The flag dropped again, and they burst into motion as one being. Lance lowered, shield up and angled, body pitched forward…

She'd mistimed it. Kel cursed aloud as her lance splintered on the lower part of his shield, but then the pain of Wyldon's hit sank in. He'd been ready for her angled shield, and he'd gotten her good in the ribs. But she hung on grimly, riding out the agony with the easy canter of her horse. _After this, no more chances. Watch him! _

"He's ten times the jouster I'll ever be," Kel sighed, trying not to groan as she accepted a fresh lance. "Why the bloody hell did I say yes to Alanna?"

"You're behind by two points," the herald informed her. "If you've got a bet, you might want to pop him this time."

Kel nodded in silence, gritting her teeth. "This is it," she said to Peachblossom. "Let's take it home."

* * *

"She'd better wake up soon – I have duties, you know," a sour girl's voice remarked.

"Be patient, Yvenne. Duke Baird said she'd be coming around soon," another said. Through the fuzziness, Kel recognized it as Fianola's.

"And we all have duties," chimed a third. "You needn't be so self-centered, Yvenne."

"Self-centered? You're one to talk, Aloisia. Who's the one of us who –"

"Shut up, both of you. She's coming around!"

Kel's eyes blinked open, and she shut them again immediately. "Not the healing ward again," she muttered. Her mouth and throat felt thick, slurring her words. A cup of water was brought to her mouth.

"Drink slowly, milady," said Fianola. "The healers spent a lot of time on you, and they don't want all their work ruined."

When she had drunk enough, Kel pushed the cup away and sat up with barely a twinge. "I'm all right now, thank you." She looked at the three girls surrounding her, all sturdy and clad in Palace tunics, and almost chuckled. "Now where have I seen this before?"

Yvenne's sourness faded into a slight smile. "Two years ago, I believe, milady."

"I remember." Kel leaned back against the pillows, studying the Brightleigh girl closely. She was freckled, with a strong nose and full lips, and her gray eyes were pinched in a familiar way. "You're Wyldon's niece, aren't you?"

Yvenne bowed brusquely. "I am, milady."

"I can see the resemblance." Lifting her shirt, Kel winced at the purplish-pink bruise that spread across her ribs. "Ouch."

"Do you remember what happened, milady?" Aloisia asked, fingers fidgeting with impatience. "It's only happened three times in the last ten years!"

Kel glanced up at the red-haired girl, wondering how she could be lucky enough to be born entirely freckle-less. "I remember the first two passes," she admitted. "But after that, nothing. Did I win?"

"You won the match," Fianola jumped in before Aloisia could answer, "by one point."

"You unseated each other," Yvenne explained, "but my uncle's move was foul. You popped him out perfectly, but his lance caught under your pauldron at the same time, and you got ripped from the saddle. And then Axe, Lord Wyldon's horse, stepped on you."

"Ouch," Kel repeated, bewildered. For the life of her she could not remember it at all. "Then what happened?"

"Then your horse went crazy," Aloisia continued frankly. "I think he was about to trample Lord Wyldon, but the herald stopped him in time."

"Is he all right?" Kel asked, a little worried. "Lord Wyldon, not the herald."

"Oh, he's fine." Yvenne brushed aside her concern airily. "He walked off the field. It's his pride that took the beating, I think, when the judges announced your victory even though you were being carried away unconscious."

"Well that's all right then," Kel muttered, rolling her eyes. Then, "Alanna! Where is she? I want my two purses of silver out of this. Fianola, would you find her for me?"

"Of course, milady." The girl in question dipped a curtsey, righted herself, bowed, and left the ward.

Kel wished she could speak further with the two remaining pages, but they excused themselves shortly afterward to commence their Midwinter duties. She remembered those days well, and was not averse to being able to put them behind her. Instead she snuggled further into the bed and let her eyes droop shut, the fatigue of healing overtaking her.

* * *

Kel woke slowly from a mind-numbing fog, feeling as though she were swimming through muck. As her senses returned to her, however, she realized she didn't feel so bad after all. Her eyes blinked swiftly to clear them, and she sat up with only a trace of stiffness. She was still in the ward, but it was dark and quiet, with only a dozing apprentice on watch. The first Midwinter party was happening, she realized, a little disappointed. She had been looking forward to seeing more old friends, and getting her retribution from Alanna.

Right on cue, there came a knock on the door. "Come in," she called - or rather croaked.

To her surprise, the woman herself walked in, bearing a covered tray. The scent of food beckoned her inexorably, all but forcing her to struggle upright. A sturdy hand on her arm assisted her into a sitting position, and Alanna set the tray on her lap.

"Don't thank me," the older woman said brusquely before she could open her mouth. Violet eyes crinkled as she lit a nearby lamp, blowing on the wick to coax the flame to life. "It's the least I could do after getting you into this mess. And take your time eating; I need a break from all the young whippersnappers trying to challenge me to a match."

"I agreed to it," Kel reminded her through a mouthful of pork pie, "and you brought _that_ on yourself by being so bloody famous."

Alanna shook her head, scowling as she perched on the edge of Kel's mattress. "If only I'd known when I convinced my brother to switch places with me…"

Kel snorted. "You still would have done it. I can't picture you as a fine lady, wearing gowns all the time and doing petty magic to amuse suitors."

The other knight laughed. "I suppose not. Oh, wait a moment…" She reached down into her calf-high boot and pulled out two small leather purses. "The silver, as promised."

"Thank you," Kel said tartly, taking them from her. "If you don't mind my asking, why don't you accept the challenges of all those 'whippersnappers?'"

"I have accepted some of them," came the reply. "But as much as I hate to admit it, I'm not in the prime of my knighthood anymore. Oh, I'll still be riding about swinging my sword in ten years like Wyldon, but the truth is, childbearing has put years on me. It's not easy, being a mother _and_ King's Champion."

Kel's eyes lit up. Here was a woman with experience who could give her some advice. "How _do_ you do it, milady?"

"Please," Alanna cut her off. "We're the only two Lady Knights in the realm, at least for now. Do me the courtesy of calling me 'Alanna.' 'Milady' makes me feel old," she confided. "How do I do what?"

Kel suppressed a smile. "Be a knight – King's Champion, no less – and have a family, and a home?"

"It's an unorthodox situation," Alanna admitted. "I feel as though George has done more parenting than I have. But I'm home as much as I can be, and it's all I can do – unless they're all here when I am, like right now. I've come to enjoy the Midwinter festivities, if only because I can see my children every day. Alan is already here, of course, since he's a page, and Thom is here studying magic. But Aly…" Alanna shook her head, smiling wryly. "Let's just say parenting isn't all fun and games."

"Don't you miss them when you're working for the Crown?" Kel wanted to know.

"Very much!" Alanna answered. "I love them so much. But I love knighthood too, and compromises must be made if I'm to have both. It helps that George is so involved in Tortallan affairs," she added. "It's better than marrying a knight, I think. I would always feel in competition with a knight husband, wanting to prove myself just as good or better, and that's a valuable waste of energy." She winked at Kel. "My advice? Marry a commoner, or a noble who has his head too far in matters of state to care about your knightly ventures. And if you must marry a knight, marry an old one who's tough and self-confident enough not to bother with competing with you."


	12. Midwinter

**Chapter Eleven**

**Midwinter**

Although Kel had missed the rest of the first day's festivities, she was up in time to attend the page games. Less well-attended than the competitions the squires and knights participated in, they were still enjoyable for Kel. She lounged at the edge of the ring with Alanna and Wyldon, watching Alan of Pirate's Swoop give an excellent account of himself in swordplay. His opponent, however, was just as skilled – it was clear that a little personal competition was underway. Yvenne of Brightleigh was quick-eyed and quick-footed, giving her an edge over the other page. However, Alan clearly showed more skill with the blade, no doubt due to his mother's prior training. Standing between the two older knights, it was clear to Kel that there was a slight tension hovering on the air.

Niece and son both sparred quite a while, back and forth across the court, until finally Yvenne was disarmed with a dexterous flick of Alan's blade. Her whip-thin form stiffened, but she bowed politely and went to retrieve her blade. However, Alan wasn't content to let her leave the court. He jogged after her, holding out his hand.

"Good show, Brightleigh," he told her, barely audible over the rustle and chatter of the small audience. "I swear, much longer and you would have had me."

Yvenne stood looking at him for a moment, almost searchingly, and then accepted his hand with a rare smile. "I could spar as long as I wanted, but you've far more talent than I with a sword."

Having made peace, the pages left the ring and approached their family members. Alan, Kel noted, was green-eyed like his father, with reddish-blond hair and a lanky build. He was old for a page, but only by a few years, unlike Neal had been. She also couldn't help but notice how well the two youngsters looked side-by-side. _Don't play the matchmaker, now_, the logical side of her warned. _Interfering would only be awkward._

"Hullo, mother," Alan said, kissing his mother's cheek.

"Hello, son," Alanna answered dryly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He was as tall as she was, and bound to grow taller. "When are you going to get this hair of yours cut?"

The lad shrugged genially. "When I can convince Yvenne to do it without cutting it all off."

Yvenne frowned slightly. "Long hair gets in the way. Uncle," she added, bowing briefly, "I thank you for coming."

Wyldon's mouth quirked. "I almost thought it wasn't worth it. However, winning isn't everything. You are showing promise with the sword, Yvenne."

Her face remained carefully neutral, but Kel noticed that her eyes were bright with pleasure. "Thank you, sir."

"Kel, when is this friend of yours supposed to compete?" Alanna asked.

"Fianola? I don't know. I can stay to watch her spar, but I'm afraid I won't be able to see her archery. I promised Neal I'd watch him wrestle."

"Fi's going after this round, I think," Alan volunteered. "It shouldn't last long, this one," he added sourly. "Terrence and Noren are a right pair of clods."

Alanna rebuked her son half-heartedly, but it was clear that the two pages were not very skilled. Thirty painful seconds later, one managed to disarm the other, and they were ushered off the court quickly.

"Told you," Alan remarked.

"Yes, Alan, you've made your point," Yvenne said acidly. "Don't worry, my lord and ladies. Fianola and Herel of Nenan will make a much better show."

If Yvenne was quick and Alan naturally talented, Fianola was a pretty-faced, deadly combination of both. It was immediately obvious that she had the upper hand. Not only was she incredibly skilled with a blade for a page, but Herel of Nenan was slightly star-struck by his opponent. Kel grinned outright as she watched them. He was just as good as she was, if not slightly better, and built more heavily; he could have battered away at her if he'd really wanted, though it wasn't technically proof of skill to use brute strength. However, he treated her like a china doll, dueling back and forth but always careful that she wouldn't stumble or become overtaxed.

"He's a bloody fool," Wyldon remarked, "but she's taking advantage of it, so good for her I suppose."

Alanna chuckled. "What a nice compliment, Wyldon. Reluctant to a fault, hmm?"

The ex-training master frowned slightly. "I'm just a little disgruntled to see a boy under Padraig's tutelage acting thus."

"Don't worry, my lord," Alan told him cheerfully, totally unintimidated by the older man. "He'll get into it soon enough. It always takes him a while with Fi."

It was true. Eventually Fianola caught him a good blow, nearly disarming him; only his firm grim prevented the sword from twisting out of his hand. After that the page seemed to wake up, and he battled more skillfully. However, seeing her advantage at an end, Fianola upped the stakes, sparring furiously to win the upper hand. Finally she slipped beneath his guard and held the point of her sword beneath his chin. Her voice rang out clearly across the small ring.

"Yield."

Grinning, the larger page held up his hands. "I yield, Lady Fi."

She whipped her blade away and sheathed it expertly. "Good. And next time, watch the sword instead of my chest. You might have a better chance."

Kel held her breath as she turned her back and walked away. Herel's face darkened, and his fists clenched, but he sheathed his sword and left the ring without making a fuss.

"She may have to watch her back," Alanna observed. "She's too pretty for the boys to leave her alone."

"She can take care of herself," Yvenne retorted. "And if not, she has a lot of friends."

Kel smiled, thinking of Roald, Neal, Esmond, Seaver, and the rest. In some ways, she admitted to herself, she missed the training days. Before responsibilities like helping to lead a war, building a fort, or going undercover in a foreign country in order to protect royalty. Or complications like… She bit down hard on the tail end of that thought, but couldn't prevent a quick glance in Lord Wyldon's direction.

Thankfully, her muddled thoughts were distracted by the arrival of Fianola, who was flushed and jittery with her victory. As Kel congratulated her, one traitorous part of her mind finished the thought: _like falling for an impossible man._

* * *

Was it possible, she wondered to herself later as she dressed for that evening's party. Could she actually be interested in a man nearly twice her age? "Ridiculous," she muttered, startling the Palace maid who was helping her into her gown.

"Beg pardon, milady?"

"Sorry – just talking to myself," Kel said, smiling.

The maid arranged her hair in large curls on top of her head, twisted in with fragrant greenery and a few gratuitous pearls, and left her. Kel looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. Just yesterday she had been all sweat, blood, and dirt, riding a warhorse in full armor. Tonight, she was a lady, with pearls around her neck and in her ears, her roughened hands smoothed with lotions and her bruised, battered body covered in yards of silk.

_And is this so bad?_ she wondered suddenly. _I used to enjoy the occasional dress. _"But it's not practical," she said aloud, watching her brow furrow in the mirror. Then she laughed. "It's a Midwinter party! It's not _supposed_ to be practical." Hesitantly, she ran her fingers along the silk of her overskirt, smiling. _Who needs Merric when I can just put on dresses like this?_

The dress was pristine white and green, an icily festive gown of pure alabaster silk. It was layered Yamani-style with a dark emerald brocade and mint-colored satin. The obi-like sash repeated the same colors at her natural waistline, diminishing her straight figure and emphasizing her modest bosom; the small train rustled pleasantly behind her when she walked.

"I can be a knight and a lady," she told herself in the mirror. "I can be a lover and a warrior. Who says I can't be a mother and a knight-errant?"

Bolstered by the pep-talk and the lovely picture she made in the mirror, Kel left her rooms to seek out Neal, who had promised to escort her.

She found him in his rooms with two surprise guests: Seaver and Owen. All three were dressed for the night's festivities.

"When did you two get here?" she exclaimed, startling them from their conversation.

Owen wolf-whistled. "My goodness Kel, look at you! You're practically a lady!"

"Thanks," Kel said flatly. "I think."

"We've got a message for the king and queen," Seaver explained, ignoring Owen's blatant – and obviously faked – leering. "And don't bother asking, we don't even know what it is. Your father and Yaxley forbade us from opening the missive."

Kel rolled her eyes. "Such goody-goodies all of a sudden!"

"We actually did open it," Owen confessed, hardly looking guilty at all, "but the blasted thing was in code!"

"Rats," Neal said, scuffing the floor with one foot.

"Hey Kel, can I be your escort tonight?" Owen asked, widening his eyes hopefully. Kel regarded him suspiciously.

"Why?"

"Because he doesn't want any rich mothers doting on him for their daughters," Seaver answered for him, grinning wickedly.

Kel shot a glance at Neal. "Well?"

"Hey, don't look at me! Yuki will be delighted to have me all to herself, I'm sure."

She sighed. "Oh, very well. But mind you don't step on my skirts. They feel fragile enough as it is."

Owen made a sweeping bow. "I will endeavor to do my best, Lady Knight." Taking her arm with his most courtly manner, he led her out of the room, saying over his shoulder, "C'mon you two, shake a leg! Time to snare some lady-loves!"

Neal snorted. "I've already got mine, thanks."

Kel noted with interest that Seaver made no comment to Owen's suggestion.

* * *

Once Yuki had been fetched, attired splendidly in a high-waisted Tortallan gown that displayed her growing belly, the five of them made their way to the crowded hall. The musicians had yet to strike up a dance, and the nobles milled freely, holding small plates and cups of wine and cheese. It was in this way that the prince and princess found them.

"Kel! You're alive," Roald greeted her, looking rather splendid in a Yamani outfit of silver with blue trim. Shinko, resplendent beside him in blue with silver trim, gave Kel a hug - something that stunned her friend.

"Cricket! You're so… um, gregarious!"

Shinko laughed. "Thank you, Kel, I think."

"It's because of her _condition_," Roald stage whispered. "Don't tell anyone though, we're officially announcing tomorrow night."

Kel's mouth dropped open as she took a second look at her friend's slender form. "You're… But you don't _look _any different."

"That's only because Yuki outshines me splendidly," Shinko assured her, smoothing the silky fabric across her belly. "I can't believe you dragged her here, Nealan."

Neal bowed, only half-teasing. "She refused to stay abed, Shinko. Besides, she'd already spent everything I have for gowns and such. How could I let all that ridiculous fabric go to waste?"

"I daresay you would have found some way to put it to good use, Nealan," drawled a voice familiar to all the knights present. Neal bowed in the direction of Kel's shoulder.

"No doubt, milord," he agreed. Kel tried not to laugh at his struggle to be civil towards 'The Stump.' Still in mourning, Lord Wyldon was dressed in dark charcoal gray doublet and trousers. Kel watched curiously with the others as he drew Owen and Seaver a little apart from the rest, speaking with them in a low voice.

"What d'you suppose he wants?" Neal asked, distaste lingering in his voice.

"Asking them about their message, I'm sure," Roald offered. "Yes, I know something about it… I was present when they delivered in to my father."

"What else do you know?" Neal demanded.

The Conte heir raised his hands defensively, laughing. "Nothing more, I promise! Only that it's something important from Baron Piers. I wasn't permitted to stay while it was decoded."

"Must be a bloody great secret, then," Neal observed, a little startled. Kel was startled as well. It must have been something of great importance to send two more knights to Tortall. Although Esmond, Merric, and Yaxley were well equipped to handle the day-to-day protection of the delegation, any emergencies beyond their control could prove disastrous.

Determined to know that at least the delegation hadn't gone horribly wrong, Kel drifted away from her friends and followed Lord Wyldon as he left Owen and Seaver for the other side of the hall. The musicians were getting ready to start the dancing, she noted, but at the moment she cared little for such amusements. Unwarranted thoughts began to fill her head: was her mother all right? What if she had been hurt by the mysterious 'AX,' or had fallen sick? The logical part of her mind told her these concerns were foolish, and a waste of time. Such a thing would have brought back an un-escorted message at least, and the news would have come straight to her. But for all her logical reasoning, she couldn't shake the creeping dread that clung to her like a pestilence.

At last she drew abreast of him and reached out to touch his arm, halting his progress. "I beg your pardon, my lord, but I was wondering if I might speak with you," she said immediately. His face bespoke faint surprise, but the crow's-feet at the corners of his eyes deepened as he smiled slightly, bowing. "Of course, Lady Keladry. I believe they are beginning the waltz – it would be an opportune moment to speak without being interrupted."

Taken aback, Kel curtseyed, taking a moment to regulate her features with Yamani calm. "Of course."

It was only proper that the company assembled begin with the traditional Tortallan waltz that opened every other ball from Pearlmouth to Trebond. As the sound of dulcimer and pipe filled the air, Kel immediately relaxed into the dance that had been the first to be taught to pages, and promptly collided with her partner. Wyldon caught her arms and held her nearly off the ground as he took the lead, trying desperately not to laugh.

"My dear Keladry, you forget you wear skirts tonight instead of a tunic," he reproached her gently. "Kindly recall that you are a lady first and a knight second, and try not to step on my toes again."

"Yes my lord," she bit back automatically, annoyed despite her embarrassment at the smirk behind his eyes as he corrected her, "Wyldon, please."

Kel was quiet for a while as they twirled about the room, but couldn't stand the silence any longer. "Owen and Seaver have arrived with special messages for the king," she ventured. Wyldon confirmed her words with a nod.

"Tomorrow the king and queen will host us for lunch while they tell us the news," he informed her, keeping his voice low. "Please keep that information to yourself."

"Of course," Kel replied absentmindedly, glancing over her partner's shoulder to see Neal's openly hostile look in their direction. She raised an eyebrow.

_Later_, he mouthed, indicating a room as they sailed by with a flick of his eyes.

"Beg pardon, sir – Wyldon. I know that I shouldn't pry, but I just wanted to make sure that the news from Carthak isn't… bad," she said, returning her attention to her partner.

Wyldon raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Define 'bad,' Lady Knight."

Once again Kel was at a loss for words. How could she describe her fears without sounding utterly foolish? "I just wanted to make sure no one of the delegation was… was in danger," she muttered lamely.

"No one of the delegation is in any more danger than they already were," Wyldon assured her as he guided her steadily into a spin with one hand at her waist.

"_Ouch_," she hissed, missing her footing slightly in order to escape his firm touch.

"What is it?" he asked quizzically, recovering her stumble admirably.

"My ribs," she explained, smiling weakly. "You forget how splendidly you threw me yesterday." As she spoke, she was surprised to feel him step closer, altering the position of his hand by placing it on her back instead of her side.

"Forgive me," he apologized sincerely. "I didn't realize you were still in pain."

"Just a little bruising," Kel said, shrugging it off.

"It's more injury than I received," he answered in a low tone, appearing to be vexed with himself.

"Milord?"

He shook his head. "I'm very upset at my warhorse. If Daine were here, I would have had her give him a rant he wouldn't forget – hell, I did that anyway. He knows better than to step on people."

"Don't concern yourself too much," she assured him, grinning at the thought of the stone-faced Lord Wyldon yelling at his horse. "I don't remember it anyway. My helmet didn't quite protect me head: Duke Baird told me I had a minor concussion."

"Again, thanks to me," Wyldon observed aggrievedly. "I haven't slipped so poorly as to foul in years."

"Everyone makes mistakes – even experienced masters," Kel said, squeezing his broad shoulder carefully where her hand rested. She knew it was the shoulder he had injured in a battle with Immortals.

"I suppose so," he admitted with a wry twist of his mouth. "Thank you for reminding me, Keladry." He stepped back and bowed.

Belatedly, Kel realized that the dance had ended. Flushing, she fell into a curtsey and accepted his hand as he walked her to the edge of the dance floor.

* * *

"'Wyldon please'," Neal mimicked sardonically later that evening in the decorative library just off the ballroom. He tossed back a glass of punch as though it were spiked. Maybe, Kel reflected as she watched the red liquid swirl pleasantly in her own cup, it was. "It's disgusting. As soon as his wife's gone he decides to -"

He got not further. Kel snapped her fingers in his face to get his attention, loath to slap him in public. "Nealan," she said quietly, "you forget you speak to a lady." When he had adopted a properly remorseful expression, she continued calmly, "I find your suggestion intolerable." _Liar_, a voice muttered in the back of her mind. She shoved it away. "Even so, it is rude and vulgar to discuss it in such a manner. Have you no sense of propriety?"

Neal peered at her closely and frowned. "Knock off, Kel, and just tell me what you want to say without all the airs. You know as well as I you're only a lady when you have to be. This isn't exactly a national emergency."

"Fine, I will." Kel stepped as close as she dared and poked him in the chest with her finger. "Stay out of my business. Wyldon is as much after me as his is after you. And even if he was, what I would decide to do about it is my affair. Understand?"

Neal batted her hand away, trying to cover his discomfort with bravado. "Yes, _my lady_." But his smirk was half-hearted, and Kel didn't mind when he drained her glass before leaving the room. She didn't feel like drinking it anyway.

* * *

Midnight found her playing chess with Owen in his room, dressed in leisure trousers and one of her friend's old Jesslaw tunics. They sat on the faded rug that Owen had dragged closer to the crackling fire. Seaver lay opposite the flames, dark Bazhir eyes staring intently at the board while absentminded fingers scratched Jump's scarred hide. Owen tentatively edged a knight along the board, glancing quickly at Kel's impassive face.

As soon as he removed his hand, Kel jumped, sliding her rook across and proclaiming triumphantly, "Checkmate!"

Owen made a pout that might have looked cute on his once-upon-a-time boyish face, but now only made Seaver cover his eyes in horror.

"Please, Jesslaw, refrain from such antics, I beg you," he pleaded melodramatically. "Save it for Cathrea."

Kel's ears perked up immediately. "What? What? Owen…!"

"All right, all right, no need to threaten me with your priest. Make her put it down, Seaver. Holy men scare me."

Kel shook her head in amusement at the antics of her friends as she put the worn chess pieces away. "Pray tell, Owen," she reminded him.

"Ah. Yes. Well…"

"He's in love with Cathreeeeaaaaaa!" Seaver sang joyfully. "Don't look so flustered, Jesslaw, you'll make a marvelous match. You're both blond, short, and love to eat."

"Hey hey hey!" Kel cried, forcing her way between the two tussling young men. "That's enough, boys. No squabbling over the ladies."

Seaver leaped away. "No thanks! You can have her, Owen."

Kel relaxed. "That's better."

The two knights looked at each other and grinned before replying in unison, "Yes, Mother Keladry!"

Kel cleared her throat, ignoring the jibe. "So… Wyldon's second oldest? Makes sense. I suppose you met her several times while he was your knight-master."

Owen toyed with the fringe on the rug. "Actually, no. She was away a lot whenever I was at Cavall, which was rare anyway. I just met her tonight."

"I see." Kel raised an eyebrow. "Is she interested in you?"

The blond knight shrugged. "Dunno."

Seaver, who was watching him closely, chuckled. "Patience, my friend! Lady Cathrea doesn't strike me as the sort of girl who's easy to – uh, catch," he said, changing his word choice with a glance at Kel. "You might want to take things slow."

"They'll go slower than ice in winter with me in Carthak and her in Tortall!" Owen wailed.

"Don't be such a baby," Kel said tartly. "Haven't you heard of writing letters?"

"Yes," he said petulantly, still digging at the carpet. She slapped his hand away.

"You're going to tear that things to pieces," she observed. "C'mon, let's pick this game up. I need to go to bed."

* * *

**Fin. I've discovered the Tortall wiki, which has been tremendously helpful! Hopefully it will prevent any out-of-canonness :). Before you complain, yes, I know that Owen marries Margarry, not Cathrea! Wait and see, I have it all planned out :). Thanks for reading! DR  
**


	13. News from Carthak

**Chapter Twelve**

**News from Carthak**

The next morning, Keladry woke early in her own chambers. Stretching luxuriously, she took a quick mental inventory of her body, a habit from long years of training. Today, she decided, was the first day she felt more like herself. The dull ache in her side where Wyldon's hose had stepped on her had subsided, leaving a sickly yellow tinge behind that barely hurt when touched. Her shoulder, which had been dislocated when Wyldon's lance tipped her from the saddle, was tender but serviceable. Kel rolled her shoulders experimentally as she swung her legs out of bed and planted them firmly on the floor. Aside from a few small aches and pains, the lady knight felt a good deal more normal than she had in the past few days.

Kel stood and bent her knees experimentally. Her muscles felt slack with weariness from the multiple healings she had recently undergone, and she scowled at the stiffness in her joints. But other than that, she had little to complain about. Pacing across the room in her nightshirt, she took up her practice glaive and stripped it from its protective covering. As the canvas dropped to the floor, she hefted the weapon and gave it a few trial spins.

Kel grunted with surprise and let the blade lay flat on the floor. The glaive seemed much heavier than the last time she had picked it up.

"Bloody hell," she snapped. Propping the weapon against the wall, she closed her eyes and beat back the sour taste of failure with Yamani calm. _So I'm a little rusty from lying abed so much lately. What of it? It will be the work of a week or so to get back to my usual edge_.

She breathed deeply through her nose and drew her solid frame erect, hands placed in front of her with palms together as though praying. Bowing deeply, the lady knight's eyes snapped open and she began her glaive dance – _without_ the weapon in hand. Her muscles, if a bit watered-down, knew the patterns better than almost any other, and she let them take over. Soon her eyes fell shut again, and her body moved faster and faster from wall to wall, knees bending and retracting, torso swerving as easily as a sapling in time with the swift weaving of her arms. In her mind she passed her glaive from hand to hand, whipping it behind her back, beneath her lifted leg, up over her head and down to sweep a hairsbreadth from the floorboards.

The exercise was surprisingly wearying. Even without the weapon, her body was lately unaccustomed to the quick, smooth movements that took her in a deadly dance through every inch of floor space.

Kel sighed and pushed her growing hair back from her face. "It was my own stupid pride that got me into this," she reminded herself tartly. "It'll have to get me out again, too, it seems." She bent down smoothly – with only the smallest complaint from her healing torso – and pulled on a pair of trousers before going to fling open the window.

Much to her surprise, an enormous flock of sparrows descended, chirping and cheeping speedily as if to welcome her back to her own rooms. The Midwinter cold did not deter them, apparently, and it felt good on her flushed face. Alternately marveling and laughing by turns, Kel thrust her arms out and let a small portion of the flock perch on her arms.

"I'm sorry, my dears, but I have no seed for you," she told them reluctantly. "Who's been feeding you then, I wonder? Been fending for yourselves, have you?"

A young female sparrow who seemed to have taken over the flock in Crown's absence shook herself violently, plumping herself into a feathery bundle. Hopping forward, she cocked one beady eye at Kel and chirruped softly.

"No? Someone _has_ taken pity on you then," Keladry smiled. "I don't suppose you could tell me who they are, so I could thank them?"

Before the sparrow queen could reply, there was a white blur and a soft _whump_, and the remains of a snowball fell in a powder from the shutter not far from Kel's head. The sparrows fled immediately, some darting indoors and others disappearing over the rooftops above. Bracing herself on the window ledge, Kel leaned out to discern the culprit.

"Tobe!" she exclaimed, delighted. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be up at New Hope!"

The grinning boy tugged his sprouting forelock cheekily, cheeks rosy red with cold as he replied: "M'Lord Raoul reckons I'd be a grand assistant in t'Own, so 'e brought me back to Corus. I'm getting' me an eddication, I am!"

Kel stifled a smile. "Aye, it sounds like it, you scamp! I hope you're minding your manners around milord Raoul?"

"Yes'm, I am," came the prompt reply. "Feedin' yon pack o' sparrows I am, too, much thanks I get in return. That Purty's a cheeky little bird."

"Purty?" She cocked her head, confused. "Who's that?"

Tobe let out a brief, short whistle, and the sparrow queen Kel and noticed earlier swooped down and landed on his shoulder, rewarding him with a swift, but gentle, peck on his ear. "Purty's th' sparrow lady, hatched las' spring."

"I see. And is she a good queen?" Kel inquired, intrigued. Since Crown's death, it was only natural that a younger, capable sparrow should take over.

Tobe shrugged, squinting up at her. "'s far as I can tell, milady. I ain't no – ahem, I mean, I'm not much of a wildmage."

Kel chuckled at her friend's attempt at covering up his street-rat accent, but soon realized why he was suddenly so careful. Lord Raoul strode into view from one of the lower exits into the courtyard, dressed in full King's Own uniform and looking a little the worse for wear. His tunic was dirty and mussed, and he sported a black eye and a shallow cut on one cheek. Still, he looked as chipper as ever. He acknowledged his former squire with a wave of one large hand.

"Early riser still, eh, Kel?" he said, raising his voice to reach her second-story window. "Lying abed hasn't softened you up too much, has it?"

"More than I'd like, I'm afraid," she replied ruefully. "But I intend on rectifying that soon. What happened to you, if may I ask?"

The curly-haired giant winked lazily. "Own business, milady. A small riot last night in the Lower City. Nothing a few burly knights can't handle, eh Tobe?"

The growing lad bowed low to his knight-master, and Kel saw for the first time a bandage wrapped around one ear.

"You're not getting my stable lad injured, are you, milord?" she demanded, half-teasing. Laughter rumbled low in his chest as Raoul laughed.

"Worse than a mother hen, you are, Keladry. The lad'll be fine – just lost the tip of an ear. Nothing too fret yourself over. Now get yourself back inside, before you catch your death of cold. Aren't you supposed to be injured?"

"Not anymore," Kel answered pertly, sticking her tongue out. "Besides, I thought you had an injured back."

Raoul shrugged easily. "That magic is wonderful stuff. I think I slept for two days straight, but I'm back to my old self now."

"I'm glad to hear it," Kel grinned. "I'll see you later, milord."

Raoul waved a hand in dismissal of the title as she withdrew and closed the shutters firmly.

It was startlingly dark inside after the bright winter white of the courtyard, and Kel quickly lit a fire and three candles that rested in scones on the wall. The open window had chilled the room considerably, so she welcomed the warmth of the blaze as the hearth glowed and crackled merrily. Soft living in Carthak had made her accustomed to calling for her own bathwater from slaves, but as a simple knight among hundreds, with the palace servants rushing to attend the higher nobility, she wasn't too proud to fend for herself. She soon had a washtub of water in front of the fire, warming quickly near the flames. Kel stripped down and stepped into the water.

As she lathered herself with a soapy cloth, Keladry let her mind wander to the night before. There were a lot of things for her to dwell on. According to Neal, Wyldon was showing an interest in Kel, but the lady knight had her doubts. Lord Wyldon, a plague from her page years, had become almost a father figure to her, and he had shown little to indicate anything besides a certain fondness for her in that regard, whatever Neal might say. Not to mention that his wife had died not too long ago. He hid it well, but it was obvious to all who knew him that he wasn't sure exactly what to do in her absence. Certainly he respected Keladry, she could not deny that. But anything more?

Kel sank deeper into the bathwater, blowing frustrated bubbles. Where was Ilane when she needed her? The next moment she barked a laugh. Who in Tortall – or out of it, for that matter – could she confide in? Neal, the only one who had picked up on Wyldon's supposed advances, was entirely against the entire idea. As was to be expected. He still hadn't forgiven the ex-training master for years of torture in training. Beyond that, any potential liaison between them would be…

"Appalling." Kel's voice fell flat in the empty room. Growling at her inner turmoil, she ducked her head and scrubbed wildly at her hair. She flipped her head back up and struck the water in frustration. The fire hissed as the splash fell against the hearthstones. "You are utterly appalling!" She breathed in sharply through her nose, and suddenly realized she was fighting back tears. Hands balled into fists, she sank back reluctantly into the water. _I thought everything was going to be fine and dandy when I finally achieved knighthood. So much for that theory!_

A swift rap on the door sent her buzzing thoughts flying out the window and she straightened up, sending bathwater slopping from the washtub.

"Who is it?" she called, pleased with the Yamani calm in her voice.

"Yuki and Cricket," came the muffled reply.

"Oh! Come in, please, I'm just in the bath."

The door opened and shut quickly, admitting the two Yamani women. Shinkokami's eyes flew open at the sight of her friend in the tub, but Yuki tittered and snatched Kel's towel up.

"I suppose you'll be needing this, hmm?"

Kel glared. "Yes I _will_, so give it back!"

Yuki pretended to give it some thought, almond-shaped eyes twinkling. "Ahh well…. I don't know. What do you think, Shinko?"

The princess appeared very regal as she considered the situation. "I think," she declared slowly, "that the fire should suffice to dry her off. Knights aren't babies, after all. Towels are for lily-handed nobles, that's what I think!"

Kel shrieked in indignation as Yuki twirled the towel out of her friend's long grasp. "Tsk, tsk, lady knight! You heard the princess. Imagine a tough knight like you, needing a _towel_!"

"All right, that's it," Kel growled. "Two can play at this game!" Without a care for her nakedness, she stood up in the tub, water streaming off of her, and stepped onto the cold wooden floor, hand out. "Give it here!"

Mortified, Shinko squeezed her eyes tight. "Yuki! Enough is enough."

The other Yamani lady chuckled draping the towel over Kel's arm. "Very well, Cricket! Royalty wins out, I suppose."

"Thank the gods," Kel muttered, mouth twitching up at the corners as she dried off quickly and found a clean shirt to pull on. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"

Yuki and Shinko exchanged glances.

"Two things," the princess said. She glanced around, hesitant. "Ought we to sit down?"

"Oh! Of course, I'm so sorry," Kel apologized. "I'm a little out of practice. Go ahead and make yourselves comfortable in the next room – it's a sitting room, fully furnished I think. Let me make myself decent and I'll be out in a trice."

Once the Yamani ladies had gone, Kel banked the fire and slipped into snug breeches, a pair of ladies' slippers, and a long, indigo tunic after the style Alanna favored: man's attire made feminine, roomy and movable but still elegant. Twisting her hair up in a bun on top of her head, she went to join her friends.

When she had bade them to make themselves at home, the princess and her attendant had certainly done so. In her absence they had had breakfast sent up, a simple but elegant repast, and it sat steaming gently on a low table in the center of the room. A fire was being built by a sturdy servant lad, and the two ladies were already nibbling the dainties and drinking the green tea they had poured. Kel seated herself on a low cushion opposite them, taking up her own teacup and sipping experimentally.

"Well?" Shinko asked, eyes smiling although her face was smooth.

"Perfect Yamani tea," Kel smiled back, inhaling its soothing fragrance.

Yuki sighed, looking regretfully at the platter before them, piled high with Tortallan and Yamani delicacies. "I guess it doesn't matter anymore – I'm going to get larger – but when this baby finally comes, I know I'm going to regret it."

Shinkokami poked her very pregnant friend in the belly with a chopstick. "Yuki, you are so slim naturally! I'm sure the weight will leave you soon enough."

"Especially on a Yamani diet," Kel added her own encouragement. "My mother stayed very thin when we were living in the Islands."

Yuki closed her eyes, going faintly white. "Please Kel, don't mention that."

"Oh! I'm sorry," the lady knight apologized. "I didn't think…"

"Don't worry, Yuki," the princess intervened smoothly. "I've been talking with Duke Baird, and I'm _very_ impressed with the midwives he has been telling me about."

Yuki took a deep breath and tried to smile, though her eyes were still wet. "I'm sorry. I just remember it so vividly. My aunt was the royal midwife, so I was there when…"

The three ladies fell silent, trying not to look at Yuki's growing belly. Lady Ilane had become pregnant twice while in the Yamani Islands. The first ended in stillbirth. The second lasted only four and a half months before yellow fever laid Ilane low, taking the life of the child and nearly her own. After the double tragedies, the Baron and Baroness began to take precautions against another pregnancy, fearing another might come off the worse for Lady Ilane. Clearly the memory was very distressing for Yuki.

Desperate to change the subject, Keladry finally remembered their mysterious arrival and asked with false brightness, "Well! You haven't yet told me your two reasons for intruding upon my bath."

Shinko chuckled, a bit nervously, and looked to her friend. "Should I start, Yuki?"

"Yes, do! She'll be very surprised," Yuki said softly, still not looking quite herself.

"All right then. Keladry, you won't believe it. I think they're going to tell you this afternoon at luncheon with the King and Queen, but once Yuki and I found out, we had to tell you."

"Well, get on with it!" Kel exclaimed, impatient. "What is it? Owen and Seaver had no idea either."

Shinkokami leaned forward, all vestiges of Yamani calm gone. "Kally is to go back with you to Carthak, of course, but as soon as you return, Emperor Kaddar has decided to host a _Grand Progress_ throughout Carthak!"

As the full impact of the Emperor's intention fell upon her, Kel's eyes popped and she groaned aloud. "A _what?_ Is he _insane?_"

Yuki and Shinko exchanged another glance. "We… we thought it was a good idea, actually," Yuki ventured. "It would introduce her to their culture –"

"More like culture _shock_," Kel muttered.

"– and let the Carthakis see their future Empress," Shinko continued.

"And give any assassins the perfect target!" Kel wanted to tear her hair out with frustration. "We're really going to earn our keep now! Ugh! And I'm all weak and pitiful after lying abed this past few days…!"

Alarmed, Yuki leaned across the table and placed a hand on Kel's knee. "Please don't be upset, Keladry. Goodness, and we thought this would please her!" she murmured to Shinko.

The princess folded her arms inside the voluminous sleeves of her gown, sighing. "I suppose she'll be too upset to hear what else we have to tell her."

Kel composed herself quickly, though she was too jittery to completely surrender to her Yamani Lump face. "No, please, I'm all right. What else is going on that I need to know about?"

For the third time that morning, the two Yamani noblewomen exchanged glances. Kel tried not to grind her teeth, but gods help her, her friends were driving her spare! Her male friends weren't half so cautious about _their_ gossip.

Yuki took over the conversation. "Neal… hasn't been _quite_ himself since he came back from Carthak. I know it's stressful, what you're all doing, so I tried to think nothing of it. But last night he was particularly agitated, and so I decided I had to do something. He told me two things. First, which surprised me, he seems to think that Lord Wyldon has his eye on _you_, Kel, of all people!"

Kel snorted. "I'm inclined to think Neal a little too imaginative in _that_ department," she said, anxious to dispel any hint of gossip in that particular area. "He just doesn't like Wyldon much. At all, really. And he's so overprotective, he reads into the slightest gesture."

_Oh yes? And what about how Lord Wyldon danced with you so splendidly last night?_

Kel stamped on those traitorous memories firmly and tried to smile at her friends, though her lips felt tight and thin with strain. "What other thing did Neal tell you?"

Yuki looked down at her hands, suddenly very absorbed in the fine embroidery of her handkerchief. Shinko chuckled.

"Come, Yuki, it's not so bad. Would you like me to…?"

"No." She looked up, face set. "It's not… so tragic." She laughed, a brittle, nervous sound. "He – he mentioned that you knew some of his, um, past…" Yuki trailed off, glancing at Kel briefly.

Keladry scrambled in her memory for something Neal had once told her about his past, and then it clicked into place. She nearly chuckled. Whatever Neal's sexual preferences were, clearly they didn't affect how she thought of him if she barely remembered their conversation at all.

"Yes, I think I have an inkling of what you're talking about," she murmured. "Seaver?"

Yuki swallowed hard, pale again, but very resolute. "Yes. He asked nothing of me, merely that I hear him out. I think he had been harboring guilt for some time – though I am quite assured of his faithfulness to me, it was certainly a shock to hear of… well." A humorless smile flashed briefly across her face. "Although I'm certain such things occur in the Yamani Islands, I think perhaps Tortall is a little more free in this area."

Kel chewed her lip, a little worried by Yuki's cool reaction. "He loves you, Yuki. His past or current preferences will never change that."

"I know." Yuki's manner became a little less brittle. "And I love him. I just can't help but… shudder… a little bit, whenever I see him and Sir Seaver together. I know they aren't – an item – any longer," she was quick to add when Kel's eyebrows shot up. "It's just that I'm not used to the idea, yet, and knowing that they were once fond of one another…" She trailed off, sinking into Yamani calm in the absence of words to explain. Kel took her hand and squeezed gently.

"It will come right with time. I know I am not his wife, but it didn't take long for me to get past the idea," she said reassuringly. "I'm sure when your baby is born, any doubts will vanish, whether on your part or his."

This time Yuki's smile was genuine, and she laid her other hand on top of Keladry's. "Thank you, my friend. You always know what to say."

* * *

Whatever Yuki might think, Kel decided, she didn't know what to say in _this_ situation. Owen, Seaver, Neal, and Lord Wyldon sat with her and the King and Queen, their light luncheon forgotten in light of the recent news of Kaddar's intentions. Kalasin was also present, looking fresh and young except for the subtle shadows beneath her flashing blue eyes. It was clear the princess was not sleeping well.

"It is not a bad move, Majesty," Wyldon conceded, seeking to placate the Queen as well as the restless knights. "Certainly I do not think Kaddar has any intention of bringing harm to his future Empress. But from my observations, I think he is both a little lax in considering such matters of safety, but willing to accept advice. We are due to return in a few days' time. If I cannot convince him to call off the Progress, I am certain he will be willing to shorten it or at least provide a guard of his own. Baron Piers, I know, will also be endeavoring to bring him to this conclusion."

Queen Thayet also looked tired, but the lines around her eyes did not diminish her beauty as she smiled at the older knight. "I trust you in this situation completely, Lord Wyldon. But in light of what you have told us of this underground threat, I am somewhat relieved that Kalasin will not be in one place for too long."

The King spoke next, resting a hand upon his queen's. "Perhaps, Wyldon, if each destination was kept secret to all but an essential few? This would put them one step ahead of any potential threat."

The Lord of Cavall bowed from the waist. "An excellent idea, your Majesty."

"Perhaps," Kalasin interjected in a soft voice, "they could circulate a proposed list of destinations – a false trail, to throw enemies off the scent."

Kel smiled inwardly. The princess was no fool. She would do well in Carthak.

* * *

A scant five days later, attired in the loose gauze and satin of Carthak, Kel couldn't help but stand at the prow of the ship and watch eagerly as the flat brown shoreline grew nearer and more distinct. Eventually she was joined by both Neal and Kalasin. Kally, still unused to one of many of Kaddar's bridal gifts, kept smoothing the veil-like shawl that draped from the top of her elegant hairstyle down her shoulders and arms. Anyone could see she was intent on making an excellent first impression. Her clothing was pure Carthaki in cut, but modestly done in Tortallan dyes, blending the two cultures with simple elegance. Kel personally thought she would do beautifully; even now, a few hours from landing, Kalasin was almost perfectly at ease – at least from the outside.

With a brief touch, Kally summoned Kel away from Neal to a more secluded area of the deck.

"Yes, my lady?" Kel asked, waggling her eyebrows humorously. "What can I do to serve you?"

Kalasin's sapphire eyes lowered, shielded by her lashes so that it was difficult for Kel to read her expression. "I think, for the first time, I'm actually_ scared _to be doing this," she confessed. "Not that this honor to do my country such a service is any less, or that I'm not eager to be travelling to new places," she cut Kel off quickly. "I'm... I'm afraid of the Emperor."

Kel had been dubious herself upon first meeting Kaddar, but months of living in his palace had taught her differently. She had witnessed the Emperor's friendly personality and the natural way he led everyone around him firsthand, and was quick to reassure her princess. "Don't worry about that, Kally," she said. "I know it may not seem like it at first, but his ostentatiousness and distance at court is not a reflection of cruelty or insensitivity. Once you get to know him, he's very personable – and he cares deeply about his people and his country."

Kalasin frowned, probably at herself. "And - I know this is just as silly to fear - but I'm afraid I won't be able to... er... make him happy. You know. In bed, or even as a wife. I -"

"You are perfectly easy to get along with," Kel interrupted, struggling not to giggle. It was perfectly natural for the bride-to-be to have worries, but it was positively insane for her to ignore the evidence of the charismatic power she had over the subjects of her parents. "And I'm positive every tiny smile will warm his heart, let alone his... er, bed." She couldn't help but laugh this time at Kally's barely contained embarrassment.

* * *

Dinner at the Carthaki court that night was a veritable extravaganza. Tents and pavilions were erected in the expansive gardens, exotic dishes were laid out on long trestle tables inlaid with gold and jewels, and the entire Court was turned out in their finest to observe their future Empress with their own eyes. And with good reason. Kalasin was a far cry from her simple elegance that afternoon. Her face was painted, her lips stained brilliant red, and the sparkling azure powder above her eyes accented her gorgeous, flowing gown. Her hair was regally adorned with gold disks, and jewels dripped from her ears and throat in true Carthaki extravagance.

Kel would have felt extremely dowdy next to her had Kally and Daine not done their finest in preparing her for the night's festivities. She was relieved, as she drifted idly beside and a little behind the princess, that she had given in to their pleas and allowed them to deck her out. Kaddar, Kel noticed, was being especially attentive. The entire Court could hardly help but notice that he was captivated by the Tortallan Princess' beauty and gracious charm. Kel wondered when he would be informed of the fact that Kally had in fact once wanted to be the second Lady Knight of the Realm, and despite being turned down by her father could still ride a horse, wield sword, bow, and javelin, and often competed in the festivities along with the Queen's Riders during Holidays.

When the Emperor finally let Kally alone to go fetch her a drink, the Princess all but dragged Kel's ear to her mouth and hissed, "Am I doing all right?"

Kel nearly laughed aloud. "My dear princess, do you _see_ the way he looks at you? He _adores_ you, so don't fret. In fact, you could loosen up a little bit. You're marrying this man, after all."

Kalasin bit her lip and glanced at where Kaddar was reappearing among the shrubbery. "He's very... good-looking, isn't he?"

Kel cast a dubious eye over the approaching sovereign. "I suppose."

Kalasin raised an eyebrow. "You prefer the lankier, more weathered sort I suppose," she murmured under her breath before turning fully to thank Kaddar for his thoughtfulness. Kel was left to snap her gaping mouth shut. _Just how many people have gotten it into their heads that Wyldon… that I…_ Resolute, Kel stamped on her stammering train of thought as a few of the kinder Carthaki noblewomen approached to make conversation.

* * *

**All caught up! Chapter 14 will be coming shortly :).  
**


	14. A Modest Proposal

Finally! It felt like it took me forever to get this chapter out... probably because I was so busy revising earlier ones and writing future stuff! Anyway, here it is... a lot of things have changed in earlier chapters, so if you read them before I changed important details you might want to skim/reread parts, especially the Midwinter chapters and the prologue. Don't mind the dates, I'm still reworking them to fit canon. And enjoy! Thank you **deets1, mangagirl64, twilightjen, **and** peddyviolin** for your reviews! DR

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

**A Modest Proposal**

The celebratory party lasted far into the night, and by the time it was over, Keladry was ready to drop into bed. However, Baron Piers wasn't about to let them sleep yet. Gathering the knights and the princess together with Duke Gareth, Sir Yaxley, and Wyldon, he paced up and down the common room as he caught the group up on the latest happenings in Carthak.

"I have spoken privately with Kaddar, as has Yaxley, and we have some good news," he began. Kel perked up. "He had agreed to shorten the length of the Progress to eight months instead of twelve. He has also assured a private guard for Princess Kalasin, although Neal will still act as her private bodyguard."

"Oh good," Neal sighed, sitting back. "That makes me worry a little less."

Beside him, Yaxley rapped his knee with the sheathed Carthaki dagger he kept on him at all times. Thin and spare, the haMinch heir was in his late thirties, with thinning, sandy hair cropped short. He was clad in plain, serviceable attire. "That doesn't mean the rest of you won't have to continue your guard duties," he reminded them all, pale blue eyes scanning the room. "Nor your undercover operations. I have been pleased with the information and connections made so far, but do not let this change in our circumstances slacken your diligence."

Baron Piers bowed in Yaxley's direction. "Thank you, my lord, for that reminder."

"I beg your pardon, father, but what about this AX fellow, Jerreth's master?" Kel jumped in. "Are there any new leads?"

"We may have a few threads that will help get the investigation underway," Duke Gareth rumbled in answer. "I believe Daine has more knowledge of that, however."

"I do." The Wildmage sat nearer to the end of her seat as she explained. "Thanks to the help of two local youngsters, we are learning more about the underworld of the Carthaki empire. I believe Kel can take some credit for that."

Kel blinked in surprise. "I can? I mean, I beg your pardon… Do you mean Temrhys and Temara?"

"The very same. They are an odd pair, but have so far proven invaluable to our intelligence efforts, as I'm sure Lord Yaxley can attest."

"Are they still living and working in the stables and with Lady Ylris?" Kel asked.

Daine nodded an affirmative. "They are; and so far Lady Ylris has proved an invaluable ally at court. Her late husband, it seems, was very powerful, and some of that influence has stayed with her in spite of his death. Our link to her through Temmy is a godsend."

"And what about their link to the city's underworld?" Neal asked, leaning forward a trifle impatiently.

"Surprisingly, we get most of our intelligence through Tamara. She has a weaker magic, but seems to focus better with rodents and small creatures, like rats and city birds. Since they are the very animals that surround the city's darkest, foulest places, that is how we come in touch with most of our contacts. Rhys, while his wild magic is stronger, has a better feel for communicating with horses, dogs, and other larger animals. Unfortunately these animals also see and hear less; but both children have been incredibly helpful in our efforts."

"We don't yet know the identity or location of Jerreth's master," Lady Ilane put in. "But Emperor Kaddar has been extremely cooperative in providing whatever we need."

"You mean he's not pursuing the matter himself?" Kel asked, concerned. "It's his city! His future wife could be in danger, and yet the best he can do is provide _resources_?"

"Emperor Kaddar is in a delicate position," Duke Gareth said. "There is still much unrest after the unlucky reign of his father, and he must always balance on a knife-edge to keep control over his empire. Carthak is vast, and it takes a strong hand and a stronger mind to maintain it."

"Duke Gareth is right," Baron Piers agreed, rubbing one hand over his weary face. "Things are going well, and we must be grateful for that, and try not to become resentful of Emperor Kaddar. He is doing his best, I believe, to make things work. Princess Kalasin's presence here is proof of that. Both sides must make concessions. Lord Wyldon, would you care to elaborate on the Report? I trust you had a tolerable time participating in the Midwinter Festival," he added, eyes twinkling.

"Tolerable is a good choice of words," Wyldon agreed with the barest smirk tugging at his mouth. "The Scanran War is officially over – the last treaty was signed the middle of the summer. There is no real bad news from Court. We Reported successfully, and only minimal injuries were sustained."

Kel looked at her hands as Duke Gareth and Piers exchanged glances.

"Minimal injuries? I'm afraid I don't understand," the Baron said. "Was there some sort of skirmish or riot?"

"Lord Wyldon speaks in jest," Keladry said, keeping her tone cool. "We jousted in the Midwinter Games, and I unseated him. Unfortunately," she continued, ignoring the slight gasps from around the room, "his lance caught my armor and I fell also, only to be trampled by his horse."

Owen tittered. "Wish I'd been there to see that! Er, begging your pardon, milord," he added seeing his old knight-master's expression.

"I think you're exaggerating a bit, Kel," Neal reproached her. "I was there – I would hardly say you were _trampled_. Stepped on, perhaps…"

"A two thousand pound warhorse in full armor is not to be sniffed at," Kel reminded him, maintaining her feminine poise even as her eyes glittered wickedly. "Perhaps next time we're in Corus I'll bring Peachblossom out and have him walk on you, and see how you like it. I'm sure he'd be happy to oblige."

"All right, you two, that's enough," Baron Piers scolded. "This is serious business." Then, ignoring his own instruction: "I say, my dear, I hope you won some money off of that joust."

"I did, Father, from Lady Alanna," Kel answered, grinning outright. "And it was no mean sum, either."

"If you are quite finished discussing the extend of your bet," Wyldon interrupted stiffly, "perhaps I could finish my report?"

Smothering chuckles and laughter, the present company fell silent to give him the floor.

* * *

Kel embarrassed herself the next morning by sleeping late. She might have slept longer, but was awakened rather rudely by a heavy pounding on her door that roused her quickly. For a moment she sat silent in bed, looking around her in confusion. The sun was pouring in through the window, bathing the room in a bright white light. Usually when she woke, the sun had barely begun to rise over the horizon.

"Come in," she croaked, her voice still rough from sleep.

The words had barely left her lips before the door was flung open and Owen bounded into the room, curls bouncing wildly.

"Kel, they're here!" he exclaimed, his booming voice almost as loud as Lord Raoul's. "The rest of the Tortallan party!"

Kel blinked, and rubbed her eyes to clear them of the night's grit. "Okay. Why is this important…?"

"Why do you think," drawled a new voice. Seaver lounged in the doorway, his dark features mocking. "His lady-love's on board."

Glaring, Owen tried to cover his enthusiasm. "It's not _just_ her. Wyldon's other daughters are here, and they're jolly good fun. You ought to meet Margarry, Kel – the two of you would get on splendidly. And there's pages, boatloads of them, and knights with their squires, and two squads of Riders, and Lord Raoul with Third Company, and…!"

"Enough! My head is spinning with all these names," Kel informed him, fingers massaging her temples. "Did you forget they were coming or something?"

"We just didn't realize they'd arrive so quickly," Seaver explained. "Remember that splendid wind we got that last week of sailing? Well it wasn't Numair, like we thought, it was just a good wind, and it wasn't blowing just us. A couple ships of the Tortallan armada were behind us, laden with nobles and servants and all sorts of people, and they landed early this morning."

"So get up, Kel!" Owen cried, delighted at bringing the conversation back full-circle. "We're dining with some of our lot's families in the Hanging Room in half a watch!"

"Blast," Kel ground out as the two men left, the one far more delighted than the other. Half an hour wasn't much time. Since when had she begun sleeping so late? _Carthak and Midwinter softened me,_ she thought ruefully as she slid out of the bed, careful not to disturb the sparrows still huddled on the warm coverlet. The others were already up and about, fluttering in and out the half-open window as they caught bugs and pecked for seeds in the small garden outside.

Working quickly, Kel splashed her face with water, deciding to do away with powder and lip paint for today. Her hair was easy. Using a few tricks Daine and her mother had taught her, she braided it swiftly along the round shape of her hairline and up into an elegant twist. She was undecided on clothing, but eventually decided it couldn't hurt to put on a dress. She didn't want to make a shabby impression on the guests of her parents.

As it turned out, she had little to worry about. The small party just arrived from Tortall had had little time to prepare after their journey, and even Cathrea of Cavall, infamous for her style at Court, was not looking completely herself. As she entered the Hanging Room – named for the garden styled after the infamous Hanging Gardens of Ymbaba that the room opened onto – Kel was swept into a startling hug. Stepping back, she found herself looking into the startlingly clear blue eyes of Sergeant Domitan of Masbolle of the King's Own.

"Lady Kel! I didn't get a chance to see you at Midwinter – it's been a long time," he exclaimed, his smile as wide as ever. Kel's heart fluttered, once, and was still. Relieved, she smiled back with a clear conscience and gripped his hand.

"Hello, Dom. You must be here with Third Company."

"I am indeed," he said, jerking his thumb to where the massive Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak conversed easily with Yaxley haMinch and Baron Piers. His wife stood nearby, chatting with Kel's mother. "I say – you haven't met my wife yet, have you?"

Kel shook her head mutely, waiting for the old familiar pangs to rise. To her great relief they did not, even as Dom ushered forward a petite, strawberry-blonde beauty dressed in a Rider uniform. She forgot her name as soon as he said it, however, because then Tobe was there, looking fine in a new blue tunic and chattering fit to burst about the voyage.

Dom and his wife drifted away, to her intense relief, and she turned her attention to her young henchman. He was still growing, she noted, and he looked as fine as he had when she had last seen him, dressed in crisp Goldenlake colors, his brown hair brushed back from a lively face. One ear was missing a slice off the very top; it was all that remained of the bandage wound around his head only a few weeks ago. He was still talking, describing his duties aboard ship, when Wyldon approached, an unfamiliar girl at his side.

"Lady Knight, you remember Yvenne," he said as Tobe bowed and scurried off at a gesture from Raoul. Kel took a second glance, a little thrown. Dressed in a lovely Tortallan gown, a net over her hair, Yvenne looked almost nothing like the page she had met over Midwinter. Only the sturdy set of her shoulders and the way she stood suggested she was not an ordinary noble girl.

"Of course," Kel answered, smiling. Yvenne bowed in return, despite her skirts.

"I am pleased to meet you again, my lady," she murmured. At a word from her uncle, she left.

"I have a request to make," Wyldon explained, seeing her confusion. "Padraig haMinch was required to remain in Corus, along with most of the pages; however, it was necessary that some accompany the Progress. He has put the continuation of their training under Sir Merric and myself. I was wondering if you would also be interested in working with the pages, specifically with the staff and bow."

Kel pushed aside her astonishment with Yamani calm. "How many pages are there, sir?"

"Twelve. Four each of first, second, and third years. The fourth years remain to prepare for their final examinations. You don't have to decide right away," he added, seeing her hesitation. "I thought perhaps it might provide a change from accompanying the Princess, and you showed a great aptitude for training during the war, especially youngsters."

"Thank you, sir," she said, nearly forgetting herself and bowing. Instead she curtseyed, trying not to laugh. _Am I a page again?_ "I will have an answer for you this evening."

As Wyldon bowed his acquiescence, the bell rang that announced breakfast was served.

For being a supposedly small gathering, Kel thought, the nobles filled the tables that were set up around the room with no regard to privilege or rank. They were waited on by the Imperial slaves. Kel sat with the Princess, Duke Gareth and his wife, Raoul and Buri, Yvenne, and Lord Wyldon and his sister. Kel had never met Lady Elasabenne of Brightleigh, but she respected her immediately. She was in her mid-thirties, she guessed, with thick chestnut hair coiled on top of her head. Her face was slim and pretty, with fine lines around her eyes and mouth; her gray-green eyes were deep-set and heavy-lidded, but sharp and lively as she chatted with Lady Cythera of Naxen. It was clear that Lord Wyldon doted on her, and, more subtly, her daughter. Yvenne, fairly quiet amidst the grand company, clearly had her mother's looks, though her hair she must have gotten from her father.

As she spoke with Raoul and Buri, catching up on Third Company news and gossip, Kel racked her brain to remember what had happened to Lord Brightleigh. It had happened while the Progress was still in full swing. The Earl and his six-year-old son had taken a detour to their fief, which was near the sea. Pirates had attacked while they were there, burning their way into the manor house and taking prisoners. When Lord Brightleigh fought back, he was slaughtered, his son taken captive. The boy's body had been found days later, washed up on the beach. Kel remembered hearing some of it from Raoul, who had the news through a company of the King's Own that had gone to help with repairs; however, she had been very preoccupied with other things at the time, namely a baby griffin and a budding romance, and the details were fuzzy.

Now, almost six years later, neither Lady Elasabenne nor Yvenne were in mourning, but the strain of recovering from the tragedy had left its mark on both of them. The Brightleigh heir was dead, and the only close male relatives the Earl had were poorly-equipped to take over the fief, leaving Lady Elasabenne to do the job herself.

"… and no one's quite sure where she is," Buri finished, voice low. Kel realized she had missed something important; the other faces at the table were grim.

"The Lioness must be out of her mind," Lady Cythera murmured, glancing to the next table where Lioness dined with Sir Gary (the Younger), Padraig haMinch, and several pages. "I know I would be."

"As would I," Lady Elasabenne agreed, casting her daughter an inscrutable look. Yvenne's lips pursed.

"Don't worry, Mother, I'm not going to disappear on you," she said dryly. "Unless, of course, you forbade me to continue to try for my shield."

_Alanna's daughter must be missing_, Kel realized with a jolt. _That was what she meant, during Midwinter, when she said parenting wasn't all fun and games. Carthaki enemies would have a field day with that. _Wisely, she decided to keep her mouth shut.

"Don't fret," Lady Elasabenne was telling her daughter. "If I even thought about it, your uncle would disown me."

Wyldon made affectionate protests as the men and women chuckled; Kel's cheeks tightened with the strain of holding back a grin. How amusing to think that, more than ten years before, she had been holding her tongue in the practice courts, burning with the injustice of her probation.

"It's been a long time, my lord Wyldon, since you've called me 'probationer,'" Kel remarked as the laughter was subsiding. "I don't think I miss it."

Elasabenne arched an eyebrow at her older brother. "I believe it. What an old fusspot you were, Wyldon." Ignoring his scowl and the company's titters, she leaned towards Kel, eyes twinkling mischievously. "My dear Lady Knight, you don't know how many times a day I thank you for sticking it out during training. Not only have you proved that women are just as competent as men, but you have given me a new brother."

Talk soon drifted to other things, but Kel sensed that her old training master had something on his mind. Her suspicions were confirmed when a note was slipped into her hand from Yvenne's, who sat on her right. Unfolding it discreetly in her lap, she let her eyes fall to read the elegant, spidery script.

_I forgot to mention – consider this a separate request from training the pages –Yvenne asked me if you would consider teaching her the glaive, as well as drill her in fencing. You will be recompensed for your work with her if you agree. I told her I would speak to you, but do not feel required to say yes. I know you have other duties that keep you busy._

Folding the paper back into its square, Kel glanced to the page at her side. Yvenne gave little outward appearance that she had seen the letter's contents, but the fingers that gripped her spoon were clasping it a little too tightly. Looking up across the table, Kel caught Wyldon's eye and nodded very slightly. Although he remained in conversation with Duke Gareth and Lord Raoul, he returned the nod almost imperceptibly. Feeling the girl at her side relax, Kel smiled to herself and turned her attention back to her meal.

* * *

Breakfast over, Kel retreated from the grand company to join Princess Kalasin and Lady Ylris to discuss a most important matter: that of the Royal Wardrobe. Since whatever Kalasin wore during the Progress was sure to start a wildfire of changes in Carthaki fashion, the meeting was held with a degree of solemnity that seemed out of place on Kalasin's lively face. Remembering the assistance she had received in this area while in Tortall, Kel suggested they bring in reinforcements. Within minutes, they were joined by Daine and Alanna, both looking relieved to escape the bustle of settling the newcomers into the Imperial Palace.

Not to Kel's surprise, Lady Ylris was quick to take charge. Clapping her hands, she briskly achieved order and laid out her battle plans with a keen eye and a sharp tongue.

"Before we begin, I ought to warn you – you Tortallan ladies are accustomed to breeches and shirts, but that will have to change." A level stare of her almond-shaped eyes closed Alanna's mouth with a snap. "Particularly if Princess Fazia has anything to say about it. She is most particular about Carthaki custom. It will not do to lose her support with such a frivolous thing as a wardrobe."

Kalasin chuckled, already well-acquainted with the older woman's curt nature. "I am sure we can find ways to satisfy both sides, Lady Ylris," she said with a degree of polite firmness that reminded Kel of Thayet. _This girl will be able to change people, all without letting them realize she's doing the changing_, she thought to herself wryly.

Ylris sniffed to hide an approving look. "Very well, Princess. But before we come to the drawing table, let me remind you: Carthak, even during the winter, is quite warm. You must not design with brocade and velvet in mind. Instead we must work with silk, tulle, barege, chiffon, and so on. Also keep in mind that Carthaki noblewomen favor high-waisted gowns, since they prevent the wearer from stifling to death." She eyed Daine's close-fitting Tortallan bodice pointedly. "Think in layers, with slit skirts and loose sleeves, and you should be fine."

"Waistlines shouldn't be a problem," Kalasin put in, gesturing to her own natural-waisted gown. "Yamani styles have been influencing Tortallan court gowns, and waists are still rising."

"Why am I here again?" Alanna wanted to know, sounding testy. She hadn't appreciated being scolded by the equally fiery Carthaki noblewoman.

Kel allowed herself to squeeze the Champion's forearm sympathetically. "I need your help. I don't intend to go about in gowns all day every day, but our Carthaki cousins may not appreciate that. We have to think of a suitable alternative."

Purple eyes gleamed with interest, and Kel knew she'd persuaded the older woman successfully. So, while Kalasin, Ylris, and Daine clustered on one side of the low table, charcoal in hand and sheets of papyrus before them, Alanna and Kel put their heads together on the other side. Kel was doubtful of her drawing skills, but being skillful with weapons meant she had good hand-eye coordination, as did Alanna. Soon they were both sketching away, scrapping some ideas and expanding upon others. Yamani and Copper Islander influences crept in, as did the eastern styles of the countries at their borders.

"The bodice can't be helped," Kel said, a note of apology in her voice when Ylris came over to check on their progress. "If there's trouble, too much loose fabric will only get in the way. But the outer tunic is layered tulle, and silk or fine linen beneath that."

The Carthaki noblewoman's sharp dark eyes perused the sketches, and nodded once. "It is a good design. The pieces of cloth here –"

"Silk, maybe weighted with beads at the ends," Alanna explained. "The belt is more of a sash, really, but reinforced so it can still hold weaponry."

Kalasin leaned across the table to see, eyes bright with excitement. "I like it! You'll look grand in them," she told the lady knights, a tinge of envy in her voice. "I'm a little jealous."

Seeing the lovely, layered gowns the other three had been working on, Kel snorted. "I wouldn't complain, Princess. You can hide plenty of blades under all those skirts, and they'll be easy to hike up if you need to run."

"With the Hag's blessing, the Princess won't _need_ to do any running," Ylris said tartly, appearing to dislike the idea of Kalasin with daggers and swords under her dress.

The rest if the morning passed pleasantly for Kel. Lady Ilane stopped by for a little while, and returned later with Lady Cythera, Duchess Cherlionne haMinch, and a protesting Buri. Daine came and went as her animal friends requested her time and attention. The wife of a Carthaki earl, Countess Mukta, also came, and, delighted with the designs, proceeded to bring in three other Carthaki noblewomen to contribute their own opinions. Before she knew it slaves entered to serve lunch to the assembled nobility. Kel had grown accustomed to the presence of slaves while in Carthak, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth.

Kel excused herself after eating, leaving an enthusiastic Alanna describing the assets of female warriors to a very interested Countess Mukta. The arrival of the Tortallan delegation and the preparations for the Progress had slowed things down for her and her companions, leaving her little to do but walk around the palace. Feeling idle, she returned to her room for her glaive.

"There you are." Baron Piers of Mindelan stopped her progress down the hall, stepping out from a balcony that overhung the gardens. "Do you have a moment, Kel?"

"Of course, father," she answered, accepting his arm for a stroll. "I have a lot of moments, actually."

The Baron chuckled. "Yes, I can see that. It's certainly going to be a busy few days for the Court, but there is little for _us_ to do."

They wandered back out onto the balcony, relishing the soft, wet winter air. Kel didn't envy Tortall the heavy snows that would be besieging them this time of year. She thought briefly, wistfully, of New Hope, wondering how they were getting on. Raoul had brought letters from the people there. Loesia had much to say on the improvement of battle skills – as well as literacy – in the young ones, while Sir Geoffery of Meron, the knight-commander who had replaced her, gave a very satisfactory report on the general running of the refugee camp.

"You miss the northern front, don't you," her father observed quietly. Kel met his eyes ruefully.

"I do. It was like nothing I'd ever done before – commanding, I mean. It has rewards all its own."

He patted her hand lightly where it rested on his forearm. "And you were a marvelous commander. Lord Wyldon has spoken to me numerous times on that account. Speaking of the man, I hear you may be taking his niece under your wing."

"He did ask me, yes," Kel agreed, hiding her startlement. How had her father got wind of that?

"Have you in mind what you will do?"

She fingered Wyldon's letter, tucked discreetly up her sleeve. "I don't know. I'm still trying to decide whether to take part in training the pages," she said at last. It had been a little over a month since she'd broken off her relations with Merric, and she didn't think that working with him would be a problem. Her concern was the Carthaki noblewomen's opinions, and she voiced this to her father. Many, such as Ylris and Mukta, would not turn up their noses at a woman training boys in the art of war. However, there were many other women she knew she had to win over to Kalasin. Could she risk that affiliation by agreeing to help train the pages?

"You are thinking like a delegate, and that is good," Piers approved, hazel eyes glinting as he smiled. "However, you do not uphold the burden of winning allies on your own. As a lady knight, certain… eccentricities… are expected. And remember, you are not only making allies for Kalasin. You are also paving the way for her own unusual habits: riding astride, using weapons, subterfuge, and so on. She trained alongside the Riders and has ridden with Thayet's ladies-in-waiting, and I doubt she will be keen to let those skills go to ground. If you begin accustoming the Carthaki nobility to expect such things from you, and Daine, and Alanna… well, then it will be easier for our princess."

Feeling much lighter, Kel gave her father's arm a squeeze. "Thank you, Papa. You've made my decision a lot easier."

Baron Piers chuckled. "I'm glad I can still be a help to you, my dear. You have certainly done our family proud in regards to your shield, and we are not anxious to have you stop any time soon."

* * *

**Got that out of the way! Now we can move on to the exciting bits ;). Don't be shy, reviews really do help!**


	15. Training Mistress

_Finally! I've been so busy satisfying my craving for instant gratification KW fluff that I've neglected this a little. My apologies! Things will be picking up soon after this chapter as the Progress gets underway. :) Enjoy, and feel free to tell me what you think! -DR  
_

* * *

**Training Mistress  
**

_Thak's Gate_

_January, 464_

"Keep your staff steady, my lord," Kel reminded him for the umpteenth time. "You're still a beginner. If I wanted to, I could rip you open if you keep flicking it about like that."

Wyldon's mouth twitched slightly as he obeyed. "It's a good thing you don't want to, then."

_Shows what you know_, Kel thought to herself as she danced forward, testing his blocking skills. He parried neatly, spinning the weapon to keep her blade glancing off the polished wood handle. Lounging against the wall of the practice court, Daine shouted encouragement to Lord Wyldon.

"Come on, sir knight! Strike back at her. See how she let her guard down that time? That was on purpose! Take advantage of it!"

Kel grinned wryly at Daine's observations. "She's right, you know. I've given you at least three chances to finish me off."

Wyldon's face remained impassive, but she saw his eyes darken in concentration as their blades came together in a flurry of movement. Glancing over his shoulder for a brief moment, she noted a small cluster of pages watching from the sidelines. Her attention came back to the older man just in time to feel the flat of his perfectly controlled blade slide harmlessly against her neck. He grinned wickedly.

"Checkmate, Lady Knight."

They stepped back and bowed briefly. She had forgotten how quick he was, thanks to his previous mastery of other weapons. "All right Daine, you're turn!" Kel called over her shoulder. "I want to see that you've been rehearsing your low blocks."

As Daine trotted over, practice glaive in hand, Kel let her eyes roam to the six or so youths lounging at the fence. After speaking with her father, she had retrieved her glaive, intending to test herself with pattern dances. However, she had been waylaid by her two students, and agreed to take up their training again. Now, it seemed, her potential trainees were also interested in watching her at work.

As Kel walked around Daine, cracking out orders as the older woman performed a very basic pattern dance, she watched Wyldon approach the youngsters. Merric was there as well, she realized. _Would it be so bad, braving scorn to teach these boys?_ she wondered. She had already made up her mind to take Yvenne under her tutelage, regardless of helping train the boy pages. But the lads would be different. They would be cocky, and some might rebel against learning from the Girl. _Not the Girl any longer,_ she reminded herself grimly.

"Nicely done," she told Daine, returning her attention to the Wildmage. Daine brought the glaive up in the 'rest' position, panting lightly. "Your hands are moving better now, instead of being so stiff."

"How are my elbows?" Daine asked worriedly. "I've been trying to get my arms to move more smoothly, but they still feel awkward."

"As they should," Kel agreed, feeling Daine's biceps. "Once you build up some muscle, the tendons will learn what they're supposed to do, and it will get easier. Now, I'm going to teach you a more complicated pattern dance. When you've mastered that, I might pit you against Wyldon to see how you do with another learning opponent."

Daine's gray eyes widened. "Oh, no! He's so much better than I am, I couldn't possibly…"

"Tut," Kel interrupted, taking up her own glaive. "He's more accustomed to weaponry is all. Now, hold the glaive in 'the broom sweeps clean' position, right foot forward, toes out. Good. Bring the blade up – make your torso do the work! – and lunge. No, use your left foot. Again. And spin right, bringing your foot around behind and keeping the blade straight out in front of you. That's called 'the branches blow.' Always move with the glaive, not apart from it. Make it an extension of your body. Again."

She drilled Daine in the first five positions of the pattern dance repeatedly, until the Wildmage was damp with perspiration and flushed with exertion. Finally she relented, letting Daine lean on the stave to catch her breath.

"I've missed this," the other woman admitted, leaning down to stretch her calves and thighs. "I've practiced – or tried to, anyway – while you were gone, but it's not the same."

"It helps, having someone push you," Kel agreed, thinking of her fear of heights. "But remember, you are only as good as you make yourself. I know you're no knight in training, but there are dangers here as well as in Tortall. One day your life, and the lives, of others, could depend on how hard to push yourself."

Daine looked up at her, grinning. "Sounds like something Wyldon would say."

"I think he did say it," Kel agreed, glancing to where her old training master was speaking with Merric and the pages. Yvenne had joined the others at the rail; even from this distance, Kel could see the hunger in her eyes. With a sigh, she realized her mind was made up.

"You can be done, for now," Kel said to Daine. "I'll be back, if you want to keep going." With an easy stride she approached the small group at the edge of the ring, thumbs tucked in her belt. They fell silent as she approached; Wyldon and Merric watched her with interest, but she ignored them. Instead her eyes moved over the seven pages – six lads, ranging twelve to thirteen – and one girl. _A likely bunch_, she thought.

"Well, come on then," she said at last. "If I'm to train you, I need to get your measure. Staves are in the shed on the other side of the ring." She pointed. "Run twice around and meet me in the middle."

With no exceptions, the pages climbed the fence and took off.

Daine, who had walked up behind her with both glaives, laughed. "They'll be jumping to your tune fair quick, Lady Knight," she observed.

"I hope so," Kel murmured, glancing at her new fellow training masters.

Merric grinned cheekily. "I told Lord Wyldon you'd say yes. You were too good with the Haven orphans not to."

"Thank you for your confidence," Kel replied, deadpan. "Are you two going to just laze about, or are you going to come out and help?"

Wyldon's face twitched in the barest hint of a smile. "I think we'll 'just laze about,' if it's all the same to you, Mindelan. Sir Merric has seen you in action, but I have not."

Kel threw up her hands. "Very well! Don't expect me to take charge every time, though." Smothering the grin that tugged at her cheeks, she took her glaive from Daine and walked back to the center of the ring where her new students were waiting for her.

* * *

Still a touch short of breath, her muscles pleasantly sore from the afternoon's exercise, Kel sank into the ladies' baths with a sigh. She'd forgotten how good it felt to be clean after a sweaty, dirty day's work. The pages, she was pleased to discover, were quick learners. Under Lord Padraig's tutelage they had learned the basics of staff-fighting. While fighting with a glaive was quite different, it required the same fluidity of motion and sureness of step as staff combat, and most students were picking up the new weapon easily. Yvenne in particular seemed eager to please. Alan of Pirate's Swoop, her unspoken rival in everything, also worked harder than most.

Kel's only concern among the handful of pages she had worked with was that some, one in particular, came from conservative Houses. She had kept a close eye on Braydn of Blue Harbor throughout the afternoon. Not only was he slow to pick up the glaive-strokes – his hands and feet kept moving to staff positions – but he was resentful of her interventions to correct him. He was a third-year, and skilled enough; but it was clear that he thought himself above being taught by a woman, knighted or no.

Sighing, Kel ducked underwater and rinsed her hair roughly, fingers catching in the tangles. Yvenne was right – long hair _did_ get in the way, regardless of what role Kel happened to be playing. _I knew this would be difficult when I signed on_, she reminded herself. All she could do was draw on her experience as a commander, and hope Wyldon and Merric could cover the rest. Perhaps they could take the troublesome ones in hand.

"I thought I might find you here." Hardly looking as if she needed a bath, Countess Mukta slid into the water beside Kel, reaching up with elegant fingers to undo her hairpins. Kel had been too absorbed with her designs earlier to get a good look at the noblewoman, and she took the chance now. Lady Mukta was tall, only an inch or so below Kel, with a hooked nose and a full mouth that tucked in at the corners. Her eyes were deep brown, sitting like dark jewels beneath arching brows. Her caramel-colored skin was light, for a Carthaki, but her hair was wiry and fell in a cascading mass of tiny curls as it fell from its bonds. She was built, Kel noted with some envy, like a perfect marble statue. Her skin was smooth, defying age, but laugh lines around her eyes and mouth suggested a woman in her mid-thirties. "I heard you were working with your pages from the north," she explained. Her voice was low and mellow, much like Lady Ilane's, and Kel felt herself relax.

"I was, my lady," Kel replied, watching Mukta accept soaps and scented oils from a female bathing attendant dressed only in a loincloth. She spoke carefully, still unsure whether the Countess intended to make herself an ally or an enemy. "I was hesitant to accept the position, but I am hoping my involvement in their training will bring more help than harm."

Mukta's dark eyes twinkled. "I hope so as well, Lady Knight. Perhaps it will allow our more conservative nobles to be more open-minded about our northern cousins' strange customs."

Knowing that she had not the wit or desire to dance around the older woman, Kel decided to be straightforward. "Would you consider yourself to be a conservative, my lady?"

The older woman's face creased with laughter. "I try to remain separate from both camps, though most of Lady Seratari's minions would certainly label me progressive," she explained, naming the group of noblewomen who made it a game to get under Kel's skin. Since her return from Tortall, thankfully, they had been less active in their cruelty. "Perhaps I am, in this regard. I am half Zu'uku, you see – the blood of female warriors runs in my veins, and I followed your training years closely."

"I beg your pardon," Kel interrupted apologetically, "but I have not heard of the Zu'uku."

"Forgive me," Mukta said, rinsing out her mass of wild dark hair. It took three times as long as it had taken Kel. "The Zu'uku are a native people of the far south. They are hunters and rovers, moving with the migrating herds. They have shrunk considerably since Ozorne took the throne, but Kaddar has begun putting laws in place to protect their nomadic ways. They do not conform to borders, you see. My mother was a princess of the Zu'uku, and was the second wife of my father."

Kel nodded. "I understand. Was she a warrior?"

"Yes; unfortunately her marriage to my father, while it ended the strife between his lands and the movement of her tribe, also ended her role as a fighter and hunter. As a noble of Carthak, she was forbidden to take up arms again. But times are changing. You teach a much older man to fight, and he obeys your orders. You teach another woman, the friend of animals, and the youngling girl who is a page." Mukta shook her head, eyes brimming with something Kel hesitantly identified as hope. "You Tortallan women wear men's clothes, and discard veils; you bring a princess who represents all these things. Many will fight the changes she will bring, but it is inevitable – change has already been set in motion."

"Believe it or not, Tortall isn't far ahead of you," Kel observed. "Even after Alanna won her shield and revealed her true sex, it was just as hard – harder – for me to follow in her footsteps. Even now, it isn't easy being a lady knight."

"It is never easy being anything," replied Mukta. "Least of all, I think, a noblewoman."

Kel laughed out loud. "That, my lady, is the truest thing I have heard in a long time."

* * *

Kel was in her rooms preparing for the evening meal when a knock came on her door. The Tortallan squire, bowed, holding out a note, and looked up at her, peeking through ash-brown bangs.

"Lachran!" she exclaimed, delighted. "I didn't know you were coming with the delegation!"

Her nephew bowed again, cheekily, and stepped forward to accept an embrace. "My knight-master is coming, so here I am!" he announced. "I would've gotten here sooner – your room, I mean – but these confounded hallways are so… _organized._"

"They're nothing like the palace in Corus," Kel agreed, struggling not to laugh at his boyish disgust at Carthaki systems. "Who is this from?" she asked, looking at the note for the first time.

"My lord Wyldon," Lachran replied. "He must've known we're related, because he sought me out especially."

Kel raised an eyebrow. "Did he pay you?"

"Yes'm," he said, kicking one foot sullenly.

"How much?"

Reluctant, he pulled a silver noble out of his belt, and Kel gasped.

"Scoundrel! Fancy hanging around in hopes of a few more coins. Get out, you," she laughed, tweaking his nose. "I'm sure we'll be running into one another."

"Yes, milady knight," her nephew said pertly, throwing a hasty salute before jogging back down the corridor.

Shaking her head at her kinsman's antics, Kel closed the door and unfolded the note.

_Keladry –_

_I would like to commend you on your work with the pages this afternoon. Sir Merric was correct – you have a way with the youngsters that adds to your training methods. Yvenne in particular was pleased with the session, and so I thank you on her behalf for agreeing to join with me and Sir Merric in training the pages. She has intimated to me that should you not care to take her under your wing, she is content merely with training alongside the boys under your tutelage. With this in mind, you may give me your answer any time before the Progress beings._

_Regards, etc._

_Lord Wyldon of Cavall_

* * *

"My lord, if I may have a word?"

Caught in the act of leaving the supper hall, Lord Wyldon paused and turned towards her with a bow. "Of course, lady knight. What may I do for you?"

"I had a question, regarding Yvenne," she explained, trying to convey without words that she wished to speak in private. Whether the message was successfully conveyed or he simply felt the same way, he offered an arm; when she took it, they strolled from the bustling area into one of the quieter courtyards.

"There's one thing I'm not sure about, in regards to training her privately," Kel began. "Perhaps you are the best person to advise me. When I was training as a page, and later a squire, I had almost no contact with Lady Alanna. People – yourself included – were afraid she might give me an unfair advantage in my training, an advantage the boys did not have. I'm simply concerned that my training her separately will have a similar effect."

"It's a valid concern," he agreed as they wound their way deeper into the twilit garden. "But consider – females are increasingly proving their ability to wield arms and fight as well as any man, whether as a Rider or a knight. There can be no possibility of you 'witching' her since you do not have the Gift, as Alanna does. And finally, the truth is that the boys have an equal chance to seek out extra training. Whether they choose to do so or not is up to them."

Kel looked up at him with a mixture of respect and relief. "Thank you, sir. You've put my mind at ease."

His mouth twitched. "I take it, then, that you've decided to accept my proposal?"

She opened her mouth and closed it again before replying. His words came to close to suggesting another arrangement entirely, one that was far more permanent and confusing. "I have."

"Are you well, Keladry?" he asked, concern etched into the line between his brows. "Please don't feel that you must accept this against your will."

"It's not that, sir." She rushed to add, "I am eager to teach her everything I know. I was only wondering about scheduling, and when I might fit her training in with the training of the other pages within the scope of the Progress."

"The training schedule will be unorthodox," Wyldon admitted. "Duke Gareth, when he is not busy, will take it upon himself to oversee the bookwork aspects of their education – mathematics, philosophy, and so on – along with a handful of Mithran priests. Between that and the Progress, you and I and Sir Merric will see to their physical training. As for Yvenne, she is to be your least concern. Once things are settled, the pages have had their training, and you have completed your additional duties, you may send for her and instruct her as you see fit."

Kel nodded slowly, relieved that she has escaped further questioning. "Then I suppose I ought to give her the news."

* * *

She found her new pupil on one of the practice courts, working through a pattern dance with her sword. Kel leaned on the fence, silently admiring the girl's technique. She was well along, for a page, and from what Wyldon had told her, she was similarly quick to grasp other weapons. She had no doubt Yvenne would make an excellent student.

Seeing she had company, the girl stilled and let the sword fall to her side before bowing. "My lady."

"I'm glad to see you're hard at work," Kel told her frankly, hopping the fence. "It takes almost constant practice to keep up with the boys."

"That is does," Yvenne replied politely; but her mask of calm was not as accomplished as Keladry's, and the lady knight could see the anxiety and hope dancing in her variegated green eyes. "To what do I owe the pleasure of my lady's presence?"

Kel laughed outright. "Please, dispense with the pleasantries. It's Kel, or Lady Kel if you must. If I'm to be training you, we can't have you tripping over your bows and deferences all the time."

This time the eagerness was unmistakable, although Yvenne kept herself still by a great force of will. "You've agreed, then? You're to be my tutor?"

"I am," Kel answered, hiding a smile. For the first time since she'd first spoken to the girl as a squire during the Progress, Yvenne was showing her youth. _She's far too serious for a girl her age_, she thought, conveniently forgetting she had been much the same during her own training years. _I'll have to see if I can do anything about that. _Deciding to think more on that later, she nodded to Yvenne's sword. "Since you're apparently warmed up, how about we try a few moves. Fetch a staff and let's see what you remember from this afternoon."

Yvenne bowed low before running to fetch a practice stave from the shed. "Right away, Lady Kel!"


End file.
